Skin Deep
by Shadow Masen
Summary: Some secrets will damage your reputation. Others will ruin your social life. But then there are secrets that will change the way the world looks at you, now and forever. What would Edward be willing to do to keep such a secret? And who will pay the price?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **It's like high school holds two different worlds, revolving around each other and never touching; the haves and the have-nots. I guess it's a good thing. High school is supposed to prepare you for the real world, after all.  
\- Lauren Oliver**

It's really fucking cold. And not the brisk, refreshing chill of winter, but wet—the kind of cold that just seeps into your bones and saps whatever strength of will you have to do anything other than lie in your bed under a mountain of blankets. But the best part? It's the middle of September. In Phoenix, in the middle of September I'd be swimming and wearing flip-flops, not shivering in my boots and the warmest cardigan I could dig out of my winter clothes box. Where the hell did I move to?

As I pull into the parking lot, I see my fellow students hurrying into the building to escape the wetness that permeates the air—all two hundred and eighty-nine of them. At Camelback, there were twice that many kids just in my sophomore class.

Getting out of my truck, I turn the collar of my brown all-weather jacket up but resist the urge to bury myself in the fleece-lined hood. It's my first day here—I don't want to advertise what a wuss I am in the face of this soggy nightmare. They'll find out soon enough the first time it truly starts raining.

Crossing my arms as I walk briskly across the parking lot, I give myself a good shake. This is my first day at a new school, and I made the right choice. Mom stayed in one place with me for twelve years, but I could always see the wanderlust in her eyes. When she met Phil and we discovered how much he liked to travel, my decision was all but made. And given how things eventually turned out, I need this just as much as Renee does, so I need to suck it up, put on a happy face, and brave the petty miasma that is high school.

I make it to the safety of the main office with only a few curious glances, but my cover is immediately blown by the kind-faced older woman behind the desk.

"Oh! You must be Isabella Swan. The chief said you'd be here today. It's so rare that we have new students come mid-term—I'm sure you'll be the talk of the town!"

Every head in the office snaps up at her bubbly outburst, and my cheeks flare so hot that I now know what supernovas feel like at close range.

"Just Bella," I stammer, and the woman continues on as if my face didn't just explode.

"You're in Mr. Varner's homeroom; here's your schedule and locker number, and you'll get your books as you go through your classes. Make sure to check in with all your teachers—I'm sure they'll make you feel right at home! Oh, and if you need anything, just come back and see me."

I give her that frozen smile people give when they just want to get away—you know, the one that makes you look constipated—as I duck out the office door. And I rear backward as the obnoxious seafoam green of the lobby tilework nearly overwhelms me. I was so caught up in finding the office I didn't even notice it as I came in. _Well, hello, nineteen seventy-two_ , I mumble as I make for the hallway full of lockers, heads turning as I go. It's almost time for the first bell, so I ditch my bag and hurry off to my homeroom.

The room's about half-full when I get there, and although all eyes are on me, Mr. Varner declares he'll introduce me to the class after the announcements, to be sure everyone's here. _Oh, joy, wouldn't want anyone to miss out on their chance to ogle the new girl and snicker_ , my sarcastic side pipes up, but I just nod and try not to trip as I make for the back of the room, hoping I don't take anyone's seat.

As I pass, a girl with a long, black ponytail and pink butterfly-shaped glasses gives me a warm smile, and I can't help but return it. She seems nice and looks like my usual crowd, but things are gonna be different this time. I have to focus. I have to figure out how things work here in the land of soggy nineteen seventy-two—who's the "in crowd," and who just wishes they were.

The back of the room gives me the perfect vantage point to observe, so I start cataloguing what I see. All the groups are here: the nerdy boys with their not quite styled hair and thick-rimmed glasses, the rockers in their ripped jeans and Stones t-shirts, the druggies … well, you just know who they are by that vacant look in their eyes … is that girl with the spiky black hair a goth? I scan the room again. _But where are_ —

My thoughts are interrupted by the loud arrival of the group I was looking for. Three guys in letterman jackets strut through the door like they own the place, followed by three tittering bimbos. _Now, now, Bella, just because they're showing boob-crack and sound like dying hyenas does_ not _mean they're stupid_ , I remind myself. _You're going to try to befriend these girls._ _You have to—it's the only way to avoid becoming what you were before._ But, Jesus, don't henleys have buttons for a reason?

I shake my head and focus on the guys instead—I usually can relate to them better anyway. _Two blondes … nice! The one with the curly hair isn't bad, and that one with the blue eyes is cute, but … he kind of looks … plastic—like a Ken doll._

And then it happens. A god walks into our midst, and I seem to be the only one to notice. Time stops and as a ray of heavenly light falls on his copper hair, I swear I hear angels singing … or is that just the druggies listening to some rave music? Who the fuck cares? Right now, all I can see are deep green eyes and wild sex hair, and my God, just looking at his jaw makes my throat dry. Is that because I'm drooling and any remaining moisture in my body has gone south for the duration?

He's … _gorgeous_. It's the only word in my brain, and the only one likely to be there when I look at him. Unless, of course, it's chest hair or stubble or naked— _Jesus_! There we go! The image of naked Jesus snaps my mind back from my porno fantasy and into the present, just as Gorgeous drops his books onto the desk two in front of me and— _shit_! Eye contact! Those incredible eyes force mine down to my notebook because I'm not able to take in the full blast of his beauty. To him, I probably look shy, but in reality, I've lowered my eyes in reverence. _Um … reverence? Exactly when did I start worshipping creatures who think spitballs should be an Olympic sport? What the hell happened to me in the last five minutes?_

I give myself a good shake as Gorgeous turns toward one of the bimbos and hits her with said Olympic projectile. She's pissed, but the smile he flashes almost makes me swallow my tongue. How can she stand to be that close to him without just licking his jaw? Argh, come back, naked Jesus! I need to stop lusting over what undoubtedly has to be some other girl's man meat.

As Mr. Varner calls the class to order, Gorgeous turns to the front, and sanity douses me like a bucket of cold water. Wow. I can't let that shit happen again. Obviously not getting past first base, and even that over a year ago, has caused some kind of chemical imbalance in my brain. I'll have to be careful when I'm around Gorgeous lest I slip back into horndog Bella mode. I have more important things to do today.

I dodge a bullet after announcements in that Mr. Varner completely spaces on introducing me, but I'm not so lucky for the rest of the morning. Government, English, calculus—I'm paraded in front of each class and forced to say something about myself as my face achieves heretofore unknown shades of crimson. I honestly have no idea what I've said, but I suspect it involved cactus plants and tumbleweeds, as I'm sure they expected. _Brilliant. Just the first impression I was hoping for. Let's all go befriend pasty white cactus girl._ The first time, the popular kids survey me, but after that, they don't even feign interest.

Gorgeous turns up in my English class just in time for my introduction, looking all sexy in his blue and green and orange plaid button-down with the top two buttons open, chest hair just peeking out—"chest h-h—chest high! That's how tall the tumbleweeds can be!" _Oh my God, please shoot me now._

I don't really talk to anyone through my morning classes. I return any smiles I come by, but I'm too busy figuring out where things are, prepping for the next round of humiliation, and observing the popular group to really have time for anything else.

Curly doesn't seem to have a girlfriend. Ken doll favors the overly bubbly one with the curly brown hair, but they haven't been very handsy so I can't tell if they're really attached. Maybe it's all in Bubbly's head. And then there's Resting Bitch Face, the recipient of the homeroom spitball. I swear she's only smiled twice all morning, and both times were at Gorgeous. I had to disguise my snicker as a cough when she smiled at him in calculus and he looked right past her. Anything going on there is _definitely_ all in RBF's head. But Bubbly seems like she'd be okay to talk to, in a purely superficial high school girlfriend kind of way, and possibly that Katie girl too. Hers is the only name I can remember so far.

One more class to go before lunch—biology. _Who the hell schedules a class where you're likely to end up reeking of formaldehyde right before lunch? Then again, I suppose it's better than right_ after _lunch_ , I muse as I offer my pass to Mr. Banner. He's a short guy with glasses, and he reminds me of Danny DeVito, but his smile is warm and reassuring.

"Bella! So nice to have a new face in class! Here's your textbook and lab workbook, and I have a seat for you over here with … where's Edward?"

I glance up and see an empty lab table before me and lots of blank stares.

"Lauren, is he here today?"

Resting Bitch Face (aka Lauren) graces Mr. Banner with a bored look. "He was just in calculus."

Okay, so he's got to be one of the popular kids since Banner asked Bitch Face, but Ken doll, Curly, and Gorgeous were all in calculus and none of them are here now, so I have no idea which is Edward. Fabulous. This is like one of those SAT questions where there're four people in a row, and they give you details about each, and you have to figure out who's sitting next to who. I hate those damn things.

"Well, never mind, Bella. I guess you have the table to yourself today," Banner says, frowning as he ushers me to my seat.

Thankfully, he doesn't put me through another painful introduction, which I'm sure everyone has heard by this point in the day, so I have both peace of mind and time to focus on the big moment in my day: lunch. I'm going to approach the popular kids and try to make friends. I'm not encouraged by what I've seen so far, but even if they're assholes, being with the "in" crowd has more benefits than I can count. And there has to be at least one decent human being among them, right?

The period flies by, and before I know it, I'm in the caf walking toward the popular table with my tray. I chose a veggie burger with carrots and celery, just like Bitch Face and Bubbly, and I follow them to the table where Curly, Ken Doll, and Katie are already sitting. I take a deep breath and try to push down the butterflies in my stomach, but the influx of air just seems to make them flutter faster.

As I open my mouth, all the air in the room is stolen by Gorgeous as he arrives at the table. It's as if all the molecules of oxygen have flocked to play in his unruly auburn locks, and the rest of us aren't fit to breathe now that he's here. My eyes go wide as he runs a hand through the spellbinding chaos atop his head, and he slides smoothly into an unworthy plastic chair. I want to be that chair so much it _hurts_.

But now the entire table is staring at me, and my practiced, cool introduction is mocking me silently from between the strands of Gorgeous' freshly fucked hairstyle.

"Um … hi. I'm Bella. Can I sit with you?" comes out of my mouth in the quietest, shakiest voice possible, but I follow it up with what I hope is a confident and not desperate smile. I scan the faces staring back at me. Curly and Ken doll are eyeing me up, waiting for the girls' responses. I can't look at Gorgeous or I'm going to combust, so I move to the girls instead. Katie's look is neutral, Bubbly looks confused, but Bitch Face has her eyes narrowed like a lioness contemplating her kill. _Oh fuck._

She sniffs delicately and looks down her nose at me, her gaze fixed on my chest. _Are my boobs too small for this club?_

"What's up with your shirt? Are you advertising for where your dad works?" she fires off, her words dripping disdain and sarcasm.

I'm wearing my green "Crown Bowling Supply" shirt. Retro was all the rage back in Phoenix, and this just might be the coolest shirt I own. Or at least, it was when I wasn't in the land of western bumblefuck with a side of ass backward.

Everyone here will probably be wearing them after I've gone off to college, or popped out a few kids or something, and I'm dying to retort, "I guess you guys aren't ready for this yet. But your kids are gonna love it," a la Marty McFly in "Back to the Future". But I don't. Instead, I drop my eyes to the floor, and through my lashes, I can see Bitch Face's smirk.

She knows. How the fuck do they always know? Is there a secret handshake for the popular club? A tattoo? Do they all have the fucking dark mark on their forearms? What is it? If we normal people could just figure it out, we could break in undetected, but somehow, I don't think that's going to happen today.

And why, _why_ did I look down? Why can't I maintain eye contact and say the things I'm thinking? Why do I always have to collapse in on myself? _Fuck!_

My cheeks are on fire as I stammer, "No, I—"

"Nah, she's Chief Charlie's long-lost kid. That must be her own part-time job," Ken doll fires off, earning an approving look from Bubbly.

"Does Daddy need some extra money, now that he has an extra mouth to feed?" Bitch Face asks with a smile, and now the whole group is grinning and elbowing each other.

"No, you fucktard, I don't have a job, my dad is just fine, and this shirt is awesome. It's you morons who are behind the times and clueless." But the words stick in my throat like they always do, and instead I just shake my head as tears well in my eyes. I need to leave. _Now._

I turn on my heel amid the laughter and exit the caf with as much dignity as I can—I don't even look to see who else might be staring. Disgusted with myself and my pathetic attempt to fit in, I dump my tray in the trashcan by the door. I _hate_ veggie burgers!

What the hell was I thinking? I should have known those bitches would see right through me! If only I'd had the confidence to pull it off and come back with some snappy retort so they'd know I wasn't to be fucked with. _Dammit_!

I spend the rest of lunch in the bathroom, swearing at myself and spilling angry tears … and accepting my fate. I'm not going to be one of the popular ones at this school. I had my chance, and I blew it. Now I'll have to try to figure out where else I can fit in— _if_ I can fit in. I cringe at the thought of being an outcast. High school is hard enough even when you're not a pariah.

PE is miserable—Bitch Face and Bubbly spend most of the period pointing and laughing at me, although even _I_ have to admit my attempts at volleyball are ridiculous. At least, this isn't news. French and physics pass by in a blur as I try to regroup and put myself together. Butterfly smiles at me again, but she must have seen the event in the cafeteria because she seems to know better than to approach me today. Maybe tomorrow I'll try to talk to her.

Finally, I make it to the end of this disaster of a day, and I almost take a full breath as I shove my books into my locker. I just want to go home, forget this ever happened, and start over tomorrow trying to befriend the people I should have looked for in the first place.

I slam my locker door but nearly jump into the next county as I spy Gorgeous tossing his books into his own locker three down from mine. He closes the door, and I know the instant he feels my open-mouthed stare. He rivets me to the floor with those vibrant green eyes of his. Is he really about to speak to me? Could this day actually turn out okay? He looks surprised and almost panicked for a second, but then two other junior boys walk by, one of them bumping his shoulder. His lips part, but his smile isn't angelic, it's leering and wicked.

"So, you struck out today, eh, Bowling Girl? Maybe tomorrow you'll figure out where you belong—the losers aren't hard to spot around here."

The eavesdropping boys chuckle and Gorgeous laughs—his voice is even more fluid and velvet than I'd imagined, but the sound and the words are so hateful that, for a moment, it doesn't compute and I just let him saunter away as I gaze after him, my jaw still on the floor.

Fuck my life. Gorgeous is an asshole too.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading! Skin Deep will post once a week initially, and then I'll likely up it to twice a week after I finish writing the entire story. This story is currently 75% pre-written, and I always finish what I start, so don't fear the WIP!

I have a Facebook group where I'll be posting pictures and teasers as the story goes on. Just search for "Shadow Fics" on Facebook, and you'll find us!

This story wouldn't exist without a number of wonderful friends who support, encourage, and occasionally kick my ass (this is also known as pre-reading): Belynda Smith, Jennifer Davis, and Planetblue. Alice's White Rabbit has the same responsibilities, but she also keeps my punctuation in line and beats back my use of "that" with zeal (aka beta). Thank you so much, ladies, for all you do. It means the world to me.

See you next week!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.**  
 **\- Eleanor Roosevelt**

There are fewer stares today—I guess I'm not as shiny and new as I was yesterday. Bubbly (who I'm now considering renaming Bubble Butt) snickers as she walks by my locker, elbowing Bitch Face.

"I guess Bella doesn't have to work today."

I huff in frustration, but there's no point in turning around. I'll only provoke them to new heights of bitchdom.

"They're assholes."

It's a quiet murmur from my left. Butterfly. I glance over and can't help but grin.

"I'm Angela. Don't let those bitches get you down. There _are_ actually some nice people here in backwater Washington."

I chuckle as I gather my books. At least, she's aware she lives on the arse end of nowhere.

"I … um, I liked your shirt yesterday. I thought it was cool," Angela says, looking down as her cheeks redden.

So she _had_ been in the caf when I made a complete fool of myself. Lovely. But her dark brown eyes hold nothing but sincerity as she watches me.

"Thanks. That's the kind of thing everyone in Phoenix was wearing before I left."

"Which means it'll probably be the 'in' thing here two years after we graduate," Angela fires back, and I can't help but laugh with her. Butterfly is cool. I should have known to zero-in on the geeky ones first—they're my tribe.

I follow Angela into homeroom, but as she goes by Ken doll's desk, he throws out his foot and trips her. Angela falls forward, landing hard on her hands as her books scatter.

"Well, _Weeble_ , I guess you _do_ still fall down," Ken doll sneers as most of the room laughs.

 _Fucking asshole!_ I scream in my head, but my lip just trembles as I narrow my eyes at him.

"What are you looking at?" Ken doll demands, and I break under his stare, bending down to help Angela gather her things.

"Are you … hurt?" I whisper as I give back her notebook. I know she's not okay, so there's no point in asking.

"Fine," she murmurs, head down as she slinks to her desk.

I follow her, sitting in Gorgeous' seat just in front of her instead of heading farther back to my own. She glances up, clearly surprised I haven't ditched her, her cheeks finally starting to cool as the rest of the room's attention moves elsewhere.

"I wasn't surprised you tried to talk to them yesterday. I'd be one of the popular kids if I could, too," Angela says, sniffling.

 _Who among us wouldn't?_

"Aw, fuck 'em. They're just a bunch of snobs anyway," I tell her, and she chuckles as she wipes away the last of her tears.

"So, who else are the decent people around here?"

She smiles and gives me the lowdown. "Well, some of the guys are nice—I have art with Eric, and Ben is really sweet and funny." She nods toward two dark-haired boys: a smaller Asian-looking one and a larger one with glasses, both of their heads bent together over a comic book.

"And I usually talk to Alice. She's really into music and great to hang out with … as long as Mercury isn't in retrograde."

I open my mouth to ask her what the fuck that means, but the words die in my throat as the tiniest Goth I've ever seen wanders into the room. Aren't they supposed to be all tall and willowy? This one can't be more than five feet, and instead of long, drowning black hair, hers sticks up in cute little spikes all over her head. She's a Gothlet. Gotherbell, if you will.

She sits down next to Angela and gives a lackluster, "Hey," and I have to cover my mouth to conceal my grin. She's adorable, and I'm sure that's not the look she's going for. She's wearing a tight little black dress that barely covers her hoo-ha, with thigh high black tights and platform black leather boots with more buckles than Hannibal Lecter's straitjacket. Her spiked dog collar precisely matches the double-spiked cuffs on her wrists—because even if you're emo, you can still be fashionable, right? If Marilyn Manson had a cheerleading squad, she'd be the perky little captain … except Goths aren't perky, are they? Maybe she'd be the lead moper.

"Alice, this is Bella. She's new," Angela says, as if that wasn't obvious.

The Gothlet looks me up and down, her dark eyes settling on the buttons of my purple and white plaid shirt.

"Tumbleweed," she mutters, and I drop my face into my hand.

"I don't even know what I was saying yesterday. I get so nervous when I have to get up in front of people."

The Gothlet raises one side of her mouth in what could almost be considered a smile. "I hate that too."

What else could we possibly have in common? I scored on my first attempt, so I decide to keep shooting.

"So, what kind of music do you like?"

The Gothlet's eyes go all round and glowy. "Right now I'm hooked on Cold Showers and Drab Majesty, but my all-time favorite is The Cure."

"The Cure? Aren't they from like twenty years ago?" I blurt, my tongue engaging _long_ before my brain.

The Gothlet's eyes go wide, then narrow to slits. Jesus Christ, I think she might actually cut me.

"Erm … what I mean is they're timeless. Classic." I'm sweating bullets here.

The Gothlet continues to squint at me, but she slowly nods her head.

Angela leans forward and whispers to her. "Mike was an ass this morning, but Bella helped me."

So Ken doll's name is Mike. He doesn't look like a Mike. Definitely Ken … or maybe Justin. A blue-eyed minion of Bieber.

The Gothlet's look turns fierce as she purses her lips. "He's such a bastard. Why can't he just leave us the fuck alone?"

"Is he always like that?" I ask, although I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

"Yeah, him and his evil minion Assward … um, I mean Edward," The Gothlet replies.

Great. I'm sitting with Assward in Biology. I can't wait. "Which one is he?"

"He's not here. And look, neither is Jasper. I wonder if they decided to skip today."

"Probably," The Gothlet grumbles. "At least, our day will be quieter."

And as The Gothlet predicted, it _is_ a quiet day, which gives me time to learn everything I need to know about navigating Forks High. I learn where all the classrooms are, which teachers are strict and which are just plain assholes, and that Mrs. Goff the Spanish teacher is screwing Mr. Banner, who teaches biology. Whether his wife knows is anyone's guess, but apparently, Gaudy Goff is completely shameless.

I sit with them at lunch and learn who who's among the students too, but the ones I really need to know are the bullies and the petty bitches. I had the bitches nailed—Lauren, aka Resting Bitch Face, and Jessica, aka Bubble Butt, are the main ones, but Katie Marshall hangs out with them too. And the bullies are Mike Newton, aka Ken doll, Tyler, Austin, and, of course, Assward. Apparently Jasper hangs out with them, but he doesn't really tease anyone. Mike and Jasper are the jock basketball stars, and all of them often hang out with the senior guys, because Assward's brother, Emmett, is a senior. Now here's the bad part. Since both Jasper and Assward are absent today, I don't know which one is Gorgeous. I shouldn't even be thinking about this because Gorgeous was a mean asshole yesterday, but … he could be Jasper. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Maybe I looked at him funny, or he's protective of his friends.

A desperate cry erupts from some dark, moist place between my legs. _Please, for the love of all that is holy, let Gorgeous be Jasper!_ I have no memory of Curly's body—he could be a centaur for all the notice I took, but Gorgeous … ah, Gorgeous has the body of a god! I spent three periods yesterday staring at the bulk of his shoulders, and the fine, muscular inward cut of his arms, peeking out from under his rolled up sleeves. Those arms have played basketball. Those arms have dribbled the ball up and down the court, glistening with sweat as the muscles ripple in and out and up and down and—

"Earth to Bella! Where are you?"

The answer, "just south of the waistband in Gorgeous' basketball shorts," will clearly _not_ do. "Um … just thinking about our physics assignment."

"I don't think I have a dreamy smile on my face when _I_ think about physics," The Gothlet observes, elbowing Angela.

Well, I almost told the truth. I was thinking about _physiques_ , which is close enough to physics.

"Come on, Bella, which boy do you have your eye on?" Angela asks.

 _Jesus, am I that transparent, or is she psychic?_ "No one! I just got here, and I've barely talked to anyone!"

"That look had _nothing_ to do with talking," Angela declares.

"Let her go, Angela; she'll give herself away," The Gothlet says, sniffing delicately. _The Princess of Darkness is entirely too perceptive. Fuck. Now I have to limit my ogling too._

"Come on; let's go to study hall." _Maybe I can read about something more pleasant—like the Spanish Inquisition._

The day passes quickly, and I don't ask either Angela or The Gothlet which of the mystery boys in my head is Assward. After they caught me daydreaming about Gorgeous' um … _assets_ , and knowing that I can't manage to ask the question without suddenly and rather closely resembling a tomato, I'm sure they'll know he's the one I want to give my virginity to. _Holy shit, where did all these hormones come from?_ It's like seeing Gorgeous flipped a switch I didn't even know was there.

That night, I dream of a certain redhead who happens to be the star basketball player for Forks High. I'm a preppy little cheerleader, and after he wins us the state title game, he falls into my arms and goes right up my tight little skirt and—

I startle awake, wet between my legs and panting like a poodle in heat. I _need_ to know if this guy is a total asshole before my fantasies get any more out of control than they already are. Me? A cheerleader? _Wow_.

I'm a nervous wreck by the time I get to school, but I don't have to wait long. Gorgeous is in the hallway surrounded by a large group of junior boys. They're giving him high fives, and The Gothlet rolls her eyes as we walk by.

"Look, Assward is showing off again. He gets to stay home from school whenever he wants to."

 _Fuck me up the ass with a pineapple! Gorgeous is Assward!_ This revelation hits me hard, and I can feel my chest contracting, but I have to maintain the conversation or I'll give myself away.

"His parents know?"

"Yeah, they know. They even sign the notes for him."

"Why the hell would they do that?"

"Don't know." She shrugs. "Emmett never takes days off like that. Maybe it's because Edward's the baby."

"Seems more like a jackass than a baby to me," I offer, still reeling from the blow. Gorgeous can't really be that bad, can he? What did The Gothlet call him? Ken doll's evil minion? Fuck, that doesn't sound good.

And why the hell would his parents let him skip school? _This guy sounds like bad news all the way around_ , the rational part of my mind says, but the hormone-driven she-devil part is still focused on how good he looked in that striped shirt and sunglasses, and how the fly on his button-fly jeans is folded to reveal two of the three buttons.

"Nice of you to join us, Edward," Ken doll says as Gorgeous passes him in homeroom, both of them snickering. The bitch brigade titters, and I just shake my head. How did I ever think I could even _fake_ fitting in with them?

I settle down and try to put Gorgeous out of my head, and it works for most of the morning … that is, until biology class. I got so caught up in English and calculus that I actually managed to forget about this nightmare, but seeing him hits me like a sucker punch as I walk into the room. He's sitting at our table with his feet up on my chair, a cocky grin on his face.

Angela gives me a nudge from behind, and I walk over slowly to stand beside our table. _Move your feet, asswipe_ , goes through my head, but what I manage is, "Umm."

Gorgeous looks up, and it takes everything I have not to gasp as my throat goes desert dry and my cheeks flare to level raging inferno.

"Problem, Tumbleweed?"

 _Jesus Christ, really?_ Wasn't it bad enough to endure that for one day? I don't know which is worse, Tumbleweed or Bowling Girl, but it seems my first day blatherings are going to haunt me forever.

"That's … that's my seat," I stutter, barely resisting the urge to face-palm.

"So it is. Why don't you sit down on it, and I'll give you a ride?" he answers, wiggling his foot suggestively as he points his toes straight up in the air. "Hmm … never mind, I just cleaned these sneakers."

Tyler laughs and elbows Jasper as I slide into my seat. Jasper grins but shakes his head.

 _Okay, fucker, your name just went from Gorgeous to Gorge_ ass, I resolve as my brow furrows, and my traitor heart begins to ache. I am _not_ going to cry.

I let my hair hang over the side of my face and do my best to ignore him, but he's not done yet.

"I see you found your people," Gorge _ass_ whispers, nodding his head toward Angela and The Gothlet.

 _Fuck you, asshole_ flies from one side of my brain to the other, but as usual, it just can't escape its mental prison. Instead, I turn my head farther away from him.

"Hey, _Weeble_ , I heard you did more than wobble yesterday," Gorge _ass_ hisses, and Angela fixes him with a glare.

"Fuck you, _Assward_ ," she hisses right back, and my estimation of Angela goes up an order of magnitude. She's _much_ braver than I.

The room is suddenly silent as Angela's words seem to magnify and echo, and as I look around, everyone is either staring at Angela in shock or looking to Gorge _ass_ for his retaliation.

"You'll pay for that one," Gorge _ass_ sneers, more angry than I thought he'd be. He knows he's an asshole, right? If the shoe fits, shouldn't you wear it with pride? But for a fraction of a second, his eyes seem almost … sad? But it's gone in a flash as his eyes narrow, and I wonder if I even saw it at all.

"What are you looking at?" Gorge _ass_ snaps at the room at large, and eyes scatter like cockroaches escaping a blinding light.

But mine don't. I watch Gorge _ass_ out of the corner of my eye, and as soon as the attention is off him, when I expect that satisfied smirk to slither onto his face, he braces his forehead against his palm, elbow resting on his desk, and scrunches his eyes shut as if he's in pain. _What the fuck?_

He straightens up as Mr. Banner calls the class to order, and I snap my eyes to the front so he won't know I saw him. Beside me, Angela takes a shaky breath, and I turn my head and grin at her. _Way to go, Butterfly._

But as soon as I face front again, I can feel the presence of Gorge _ass_ beside me. I'm not quite near enough to feel his body heat, but sitting this close to him, I can feel my heart racing and the sweat gathering on my palms. _But he really_ is _an asshole_ , my rational mind says, as hormone-driven she-devil whimpers. I don't want him to be an asshole, I want him to swallow my tongue.

I'm disappointed.

I had really hoped he was better than all this high school crap, but I guess he's just one of the boys. The stupid, immature, holier-than-thou jock boys. Sighing, I mentally vow to write him off as that ache in my heart returns.

At lunch, I sit with Angela and The Gothlet, and Ben and Eric join us too. All anyone can talk about is Angela going off on Gorge _ass_.

"I can't believe you did that!" Ben exclaims as Angela blushes.

"Yeah, no one talks back to Edward!" Eric chimes in.

"She was great," I tell everyone. "She just stared him down until he blinked. He had no comeback."

"He will," The Gothlet says, her eyes fixed on the popular table. Bitch Face has her head on Gorge _ass_ ' shoulder as he's talking, but he looks pretty annoyed about it. Ken doll and Tyler are nodding their heads as Gorge _ass_ speaks, and Jessica casts a glance over her shoulder toward our table. It wouldn't be any clearer they're talking about us if they were holding a damn neon sign. "No one messes with Assward and gets away with it."

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for reading and for the awesome response to Chapter 1! Edward is quite the ass, isn't he? I wonder why?

Posting will be on Monday mornings for the foreseeable future, with teasers in Shadow Fics (on Facebook) on Thursdays. In a perfect world unbound by time, I would answer every review as I did for Come Back Tomorrow, but this time around, it just won't be possible. I will always answer questions, and respond here and there as I can. It's so good to see so many old CBT friends in the reviews! Thank you all for taking another ride with me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **Adolescence: A stage between infancy and adultery.  
\- Ambrose Bierce**

We wait for the revenge of the anti-nerds, but it doesn't come all day Thursday, and when I walk into homeroom on Friday, Angela accosts me.

"Are you coming to the game tonight?" She's bouncing up and down like Tigger on crack.

"Game?"

"Football, silly! The Spartans are playing the Hoquiam Grizzlies, and we're gonna kick their asses!"

"You can't be serious."

"Of course, I am. What else are you going to do on a Friday night?"

Several thousand things not involving coldness or wetness run through my mind as I raise my eyebrows at her.

"What else are you going to do on a Friday night in _this_ town?"

 _Fuck._

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun! Alice is coming."

I raise my eyebrows again as I glance over at The Gothlet.

"Guys behaving like animals is … kinda hot," she says, shrugging.

Wow, didn't see that one coming. But she's wearing a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt today, and now I think I understand the reason. Mental note _not_ to explore this topic any further if at all humanly possible. _Ew._

"Um … sure?" I offer as Angela claps her hands and squeals. We _are_ just talking about a bunch of guys chasing a piece of pigskin, right? I prefer my pig in bacon form, thank you very much.

The popular group strolls in then, Ken doll and Jasper in their letterman jackets to support their fellow athletes on the football team, and—deep breath—there's Gorgeous. He's ignored me since Wednesday, but try as I might, I just can't get him out of my head. He's an asshole, I _know_ he's an asshole, I've _seen him be_ an asshole, but my heart still skips a beat, and my breathing either stops altogether or goes double time every time I see him.

He looks fucking amazing in his navy blue hoodie, but …

"Does Assward play basketball?"

The Gothlet looks at me appraisingly. "No. Why do you ask?"

 _Because those muscles on his arms would flex_ so _nicely as he powered his way down the court …_

"No reason. He's not wearing a letterman jacket like the other jocks, and I thought—"

"He used to play," Angela pipes up in that hushed voice you use when you're about to spread juicy gossip. "He was really good, too. He quit when we started high school. I don't think anyone really knows why."

"Maybe he just got sick of it."

"Maybe. But it was … weird. Everyone thought he'd be this big star, and then he just … quit."

"Huh," I say, quickly changing the subject, but I'm intrigued. Why would a guy like Gorgeous quit basketball when all his friends play and he obviously has talent? Like Angela said, weird.

My morning is uneventful, until I get to biology, that is. Friday is lab day, and since each table seats two, that makes Gorgeous my lab partner. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I want to hate this guy. He's a jerk, he makes fun of my friends, and he represents everything I hate about high school. But as I walk in the room, the air in my lungs turns solid, and my heart takes off like a jackrabbit. My cheeks heat, so as I sit down, I lean over to play with my shoelace for as long as I think I can get away with it to allow my traitor blush to fade. Maybe he'll be an ass to me and my stupid hormones will knock this shit off. The warmth between my legs seems to disagree, however.

As soon as I take my seat, Banner starts explaining today's lab, and I zone out, watching Gorgeous. He's sitting forward but he somehow looks relaxed as he twirls a pen between those long, dexterous fingers. His sleeve has slid down, and I stare at the bracelet he's worn every day this week. What the hell is it, anyway?

He's one of the only guys I've seen who wears any jewelry. Occasionally, someone will wear a shark's tooth necklace or some Rasta beads, but Edward's the only guy I've noticed who regularly wears anything on his wrist other than a watch.

It looks sort of like an ID bracelet, but as I look closer, there doesn't seem to be anything engraved on it. It's a square piece of silver metal that curves around his wrist, held on by a black braided band that looks almost like a shoelace. The band goes through the silver square on one side, across its surface, and then back out a hole on the other side, and the two ends of the band come together in a silver clasp on the underside of his wrist.

Gorgeous suddenly glances over at me and follows my line of sight. He drops the pen with a clatter and tugs his sleeve over the bracelet, casting an almost guilty look at me. _What is that all about?_

He hunches forward now, supporting his chin with his other fist, and I can ogle without anyone, particularly him, knowing I'm ogling.

Sweet Jesus on a pogo stick, I have _never_ seen a man as good-looking as Gorgeous. His hair is wild—too long on the sides and back, and I'm dying to put my fingers right _there_ and brush those rebellious strands behind his ear. And don't even get me started on the top. It's standing up in so many directions that he has to have run his fingers through it a hundred times already today, and I'd kill … several people in order to have the honor of the hundred and first. His sideburns come down to just below his ears, meeting the fine dusting of stubble on his neck and jaw. It's redder than his hair—I can tell by the way the light hits it. I wonder if it's as soft as it looks.

I close my eyes and feel warmth flood my chest as I imagine running my fingers over that soft yet so defined jaw. The warmth moves south, and my hands follow suit, my fingers splaying out on his chest and washboard abs. My center begins to pulse as my hand travels farther down, his muscles tensing and quivering as I—

"Miss Swan?"

"What?" I answer automatically, as chuckles erupt around the room.

I can feel Gorgeous' eyes on me, so I keep my eyes on Mr. Banner as my cheeks sear with heat. _Oh, fuck, what did he ask me?_

"If you were paying _attention_ , you'd know I asked you to go choose your slides for today's lab," Banner says, looking down the bridge of his nose.

I grin sheepishly as he narrows his eyes at me and scuttle to the back of the room. Great. Porno interruptus a la the geek squad. And just when it was getting good.

It was probably a blessing, though, because now I have to interact with Gorgeous, and that would have been a little awkward had I just given porno-ward an orgasm.

As I make my way back to our table, I mentally prepare myself for the onslaught of abuse from him. Every time he's ever spoken to me, it's been to say something snide, and I just gave him the perfect opening.

He's fiddling with the microscope, but he glances up as I place the slides on the table.

"Do you want to go first?" he asks, fixing me with those deep green eyes and a quite neutral expression.

 _The fuck? Who are you and what have you done with Assward?_

I narrow my eyes at him, my head spinning as I try to figure out his game. He stares back at me, his brow furrowing a little, and suddenly, I get angry.

"What's the matter? Can't come up with anything awful to say?"

"Huh?" he stammers, rearing back a bit in confusion.

"Is it my lucky day or something? Or did you suddenly forget how to be a jackass?"

We both draw in a sharp breath at my words. _Holy shit, did I just say that out loud?_

For a second, Gorgeous looks as if I've struck him, but then he clenches his jaw so tightly I swear I hear his teeth grind together.

"I was _trying_ to be nice—"

"Why bother? You're an ass to all my friends. What makes me so special?" My eyes widen as the words tumble out of my mouth, and his do too, but they narrow to slits as he takes a long, slow look from my head to my midsection and back again. My skin heats and prickles under his gaze, adrenaline thumping through my veins as anger breaks into waves of desire.

He leans forward so that he's inches from my face—so close I can feel his warm breath on my cheeks.

"Absolutely _nothing_." The words pierce me, freezing my heart and every drop of blood in my body. I can't move, can't think—I just stare, and his cruelty seems to ricochet back at him because he turns away and brings his fist up to shield his eyes.

"Just … stay the fuck away from me, okay?" he growls, and I bite my lip to keep it from trembling as I turn toward the microscope.

It takes me a good five minutes to thaw out enough to focus on anything other than the fact that he just basically called me garbage. What the _hell_ just happened? Did he actually try to be nice, and I got in his face about it? _Me_? I've _never_ uttered the snark that goes through my head. It's always just … stuck there, even when I want to fire it at someone. But I just got so mad—why does the only guy I've ever been truly attracted to have to be a jackass? Why can't I lust over a decent human being?

The rest of the period lasts seven lifetimes as Gorgeous and I shove the microscope back and forth, making our separate notes and not even daring to look at each other. _What a fucking bastard._ Maybe I should make an effort to stay away from him because this shifting from mooning over him to wanting to tear his head off is even making _me_ dizzy!

As soon as the bell rings, Gorgeous flies out of his seat like the hounds of hell are on his heels, and I'm not the only one who notices.

"What was that about?" Angela asks as she strolls up to me, books balanced on her hip.

"I'm not sure, but I think this class is going to fuck up my Fridays," I answer, gazing at Gorgeous' retreating back.

High school football games in Phoenix are a wide-open, relaxed affair. Sure, some people actually cared about the game, but most of us were there to ogle the guys in their tight football pants and watch the drama that always unfolds when you put that many teenagers in one location—basically, anything other than spectating the sport. Not so in Forks. They are _serious_ about their football, and the atmosphere is tense and closed in, as if the trees and mountains are pressing down on the stands, cheering right along with the screaming fans. It's … simple and unsophisticated, and I can't decide whether I like it or not as I climb up the steps with Angela to the seats The Gothlet is saving for us.

Just about everyone around me is decked out in deep navy and gold, including Angela. She even has her hair tied back in a gold ribbon. I'd like to say I wore my blue hoodie by accident, but I came out to Angela's car in brown, and she shrieked at me until I went and changed. So, I guess I'm a fan now too.

I survey the navy ocean, and The Gothlet sticks out like a sore thumb. With black nail polish, of course. She's all in black, but I have to turn my head the minute I see her t-shirt to keep the giggles from escaping. There's an upside-down Nike swoosh on it with the check-mark end broken in two so it looks like fangs. Underneath that, it says, "I just can't." It's fantastic. She's the epitome of emo, all wrapped up in a spritely little package. If I wasn't afraid of her switchblade, I'd give her a hug.

"Anything good happen yet?" Angela asks as we sit.

"Emmett just ran a flea flicker on fourth down and passed twenty yards to Kevin for a touchdown."

"Awesome!" Angela yells as if The Gothlet just spoke in English and not in tongues.

"You understood that?"

"Of course," Angela answers, giving me a blank stare. "Where the hell did you grow up, anyway?"

"Somewhere that doesn't give two shits about football, obviously."

"Oh, we've gotta fix this," The Gothlet says, her brow furrowed in determination.

Angela scoots over and beckons me until I sit between them and gives me a serious look. "Now, the burly one with the ball is Edward's brother, Emmett. He's the quarterback."

Angela explains the game to me, and The Gothlet pipes up with little details here and there, but mostly, she makes comments about the guys' asses and whether that bulge is jock or cock. Before long, I'm laughing and cheering, and the three of us are having a great time. That is, until near the end of the second quarter.

"Hey, Bella, look at number twenty-nine. That _has_ to be jock!" The Gothlet exclaims, but instead of the field, my eyes fall on the shock of auburn hair bobbing its way up the bleachers. He's wearing loose jeans and a navy Spartans hoodie, but I've barely begun to ogle before Ken doll nearly falls into my lap. He pitches forward, but catches himself on the seat in front of us, and raises his bloodshot eyes to me as he giggles.

Jocks only giggle when they're so fucking drunk they have no idea they're acting like preteen girls.

Angela and The Gothlet have gone silent—I imagine us all sitting there with our fingers crossed, chanting, "Go away, go away," in our heads. Tyler tries to haul Ken doll up, but he pulls his arm away, still laughing as his gaze falls on Angela.

"Wheeeee-ble," he slurs. "What the f-fuck are you doing here?"

"She's watching the fucking game, like we should be doing. Come on, man, let's go," Tyler says, clapping Ken doll on the shoulder, then steadying him as he clambers up the bleachers. Gorgeous passes us without a second glance, but Jasper shrugs and looks apologetic.

I huff out a breath in relief, but when I glance over at my friends, they look anything but relieved.

"Mike's even more of an asshole when he's drunk, if that's possible," The Gothlet whispers. "And he always goes after Angela. If he wasn't so damn mean, I'd swear he has the hots for her and is too chicken to admit it."

I'm about to tell The Gothlet she's full of shit, but as I lean over, I look back and am stunned into silence. Ken doll is literally leering at Angela from his seat two rows back, and although she says nothing, I know she can feel his eyes on her. He may not want to date her, but his eyes say he'd tap that in a second, given half the chance.

Jessica is on the sidelines with the cheerleading team, but I see her ponytails bounce over the heads in front of us as she jumps up to get a better look for Ken doll. She smiles when she finds him, but her eyes narrow as they fall on the three of us. Fuck. It's a teenage love triangle of the worst kind, and Angela is caught right in the middle.

"Let's go get a drink," I suggest, and Angela is out of her seat before I can finish my sentence.

"Great idea, Bella."

The Gothlet gives me a thumbs up as she follows Angela, and I pat myself on the back for saving our evening. _Fuck you, Ken doll. You can't have everything you want just because you're a jock._

We each get a Coke and do a couple loops of the stands, but by the time we finish the second one, I feel like a water balloon. Angela is chatting animatedly with two of the sophomore girls about some guy who's running back? Why the hell wouldn't he run forward? _Fuck it; it's time to go pee._

"I'll be right back," I say to the group, but The Gothlet follows me.

"So, are you having a good time?"

The words tumble out of my mouth before I even have time to think about them. "Yeah, I am. Football is kinda cool."

"Men in tight pants are hot," The Gothlet says, snickering, and we both laugh as we head back toward where we left Angela.

When we get back to the place along the track fence where we left her, she and the sophomores are nowhere to be seen. The third quarter has started, and there are a lot fewer people wandering around.

"Maybe she went back to our seats without us?"

The Gothlet shrugs, and we make our way over to the corner of the stands so we can see up to our former seats. Tyler is still up there with some other guys, but Jasper, Gorgeous, and Ken doll are gone, and Angela isn't there either.

A cold shiver runs down my spine, but I try to shrug it off until The Gothlet turns to face me with a nervous look in her eye.

"I don't like this. Let's check behind the stands."

I just nod and follow her, hoping against hope it's a coincidence that they're all missing at the same time.

It's darker back behind the crowd, but there are still a fair number of people despite the game still going on. A few couples making out, clusters of girls gossiping, and Angela and Ken doll squared off with a crowd forming around them.

"Leave me alone, Mike!" Angela yells with authority, but he just leers at her and chuckles.

"Aww, come on, Weeble, talk to me for a while. You know you want to."

"No, I don't, you jackass! No means _no_!"

As Angela turns to storm off, Ken doll grabs her arm, and that's when all hell breaks loose.

"Get your hands off her, fucker!"

Ben comes barreling out of the crowd, eyes blazing with fury, and punches Ken doll squarely in the face. Ken doll is thrown backward with the force of the blow, letting go of Angela, who scurries over to us. But now Ben is facing a very pissed, very drunk Ken doll, who has several inches and a few small children of poundage on him. _Shit._

Ken doll lunges at him, and the scene breaks down into a barroom-style scuffle as every boy within a hundred yards chants, "Fight, fight, fight!"

Most of the crowd is excited, but Eric stands in the front, shifting from foot to foot, looking nervous and conflicted, and Jasper watches from the opposite side, fists clenched and glaring. Gorgeous is next to him, and he looks … as nervous as Eric? What the fuck does _he_ have to be nervous about? He and his friends are bigger, and there's no way he's afraid of getting in trouble.

My eyes shoot back to the brawling boys as Ken doll finally throws Ben to the ground and moves to straddle him. Suddenly, Eric jumps into the fray, grabbing Ken doll's arm and throwing an uppercut before Ken doll can kneel down, and Jasper is on top of him instantly, pulling him away and starting his own fight.

A sophomore boy grabs Jasper from behind, and I draw in a sharp breath, knowing that Gorgeous has to be the next contestant in this display of teenage male barbarism, but … the only things that move are Gorgeous' eyes. They grow wide as saucers as he glances hurriedly over his shoulder, as if he's looking for some adult to break this up. He looks so conflicted that I almost feel sorry for him, but his inaction makes no sense at all. He could tie both the sophomore and Eric into a pretzel inside of five seconds, but he looks more likely to throw up. What the fuck? Is Gorgeous a coward?

My brow furrows in confusion, and suddenly, I meet his eyes over the fight, but he looks away quickly. Even at this distance, I can see the ruddiness of his cheeks. I don't get this boy … at all.

The adults do come in and break up the fight, but luckily it's parents and not administration, and everyone scatters before anyone who wasn't watching can piece it together.

"Are you okay?" The Gothlet asks Angela, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she responds, shaking her head. "I can't believe Ben did that. I have to go find him and make sure he's okay!"

Angela takes off with The Gothlet and me hot on her heels, and it doesn't take long to find Ben and Eric. They're surrounded by a group of the less popular boys, and Ben seems to be getting quite a few hearty slaps on the back.

"Ben, are you … oh, wow, look at your eye!" Angela exclaims, rushing over to him, her hand hovering just above his eyebrow. He flinches even though she hasn't touched him, but his smile is smug pride and satisfaction.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" His gaze softens, and his cheeks turn a rosy pink as Angela suddenly finds her shoes fascinating.

"I'm fine, too. I don't really think he was going to hurt me."

But now she looks up, staring at him intently. "Why did you do that—hit him when he touched me?"

Now it's Ben's turn to talk to his shoes, but to his credit, he actually tries for more than the boy-standard three-word answer. "I did it because you're not … well, you're …"

The smile on Angela's face is radiant. "Ben, would you like to take a walk with me?"

The Gothlet grabs my arm, and the sound she makes can only be the Goth equivalent of a squeal as Ben and Angela start to walk off together. Suddenly, Angela turns and gives us that, "Oh my God, can you believe this?" look, and I can't help but grin back at her. Ben staked a claim tonight, and Angela appears to be just fine with that.

I look for Gorgeous as The Gothlet and I head back to watch the end of the game, and I finally spot him when we're high enough in the stands. He's heading out the gate with Ken doll and Jasper, and Ken doll is still glaring as if he could kill someone. That's two taunts my little group has thrown at the popular club this week, and I can't help but think they're not likely to forget it.

* * *

A/N: Aren't Ben and Butterfly cute? And what's with Edward?

Teaser team in Shadow fics on Wednesday night, teaser posts on Thursday, and I'll see some of you lovely ladies in Vegas at TFMU this week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **We are bound by the secrets we share.  
– Zoe Heller**

By Monday morning, Ben and Angela are an item, and it'd be sweet enough to gag me, if it weren't two of my new friends. Angela seemed happy but quiet before, and now she just seems to … glow. She and Ben can't keep their eyes off each other, and they both blush beet red every time their gazes meet. I wonder if that's what hot flashes feel like during menopause?

Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I know deep down I'm jealous. My only real affection for guys has been one-sided. I have no idea what it feels like to have those feelings returned and responded to. But she's so damn happy, it rubs off on The Gothlet and me, and we both grin and roll our eyes every time we see them.

But there's one person who certainly isn't grinning at them. The Gothlet and I sit behind Angela in calculus, and she elbows me as we sit down. "Hey, I heard Newton is so pissed at Angela that he punched a dent into his locker."

"Why?" I ask, glancing toward where he sits glowering at the front board.

"My guess is because she embarrassed him by making a scene on Friday night. He always gets what he wants," The Gothlet says, shrugging.

"What about Bu—um, Jessica?"

"Oh, she's his, but he kinda does what he wants, you know? Most of the popular guys are like that, or at least, they try to be."

I can't help but let my eyes fall on Gorgeous, sitting just behind Ken doll. He doesn't have a girlfriend—does that mean he just gets what he wants when he wants it too?

Gorgeous has been quiet all morning, and when I sit down beside him in biology, he shoots me the side-eye, his cheeks flushing a delicious pink, but that's all I get. No looks, no conversation. And although he still looks clit-throbbingly … well, gorgeous, I'm more focused on studying the non-sexual aspects of him at the moment.

I consider myself a pretty good judge of people, and there have been three instances now where he hasn't done what I expected: after Angela talked back to him, the way he tried to be nice to me in class last week, and then not jumping into the fight on Friday night. There's something … different about him, and it's more than just that he's the hottest specimen of the male species I've ever seen. He's a mystery, and I guess I'm just going to have to ogle and learn.

The silent treatment continues all week, so I just watch him. I watch him pal around with Jasper and be shamelessly hit on by Resting Bitch Face. I watch him bully guys younger and older as Ken doll's wingman and make crass remarks to girls. I watch how he smiles, but it never seems to reach those piercing green eyes of his. And I watch how the eyes of half the girls in the school seem to follow him, but _his_ eyes seems to shy away from mine. Intriguing.

Friday comes around, and once again, we're forced to speak to one another. Our lab is "characteristics of life," and we have to walk around the room and discuss whether what we're looking at is (or was) alive and write down why we think so. _Great._

Gorgeous gets up without even giving me a glance, and I hurry to follow him to our first station. He's brought no notebook or pen, so I guess I'm the secretary for this assignment. _Jerk._ But then he looks up at me, and I stop breathing just like I always do. He's two feet away, and it's as if there's this electricity crackling between us, but his look is … wary.

"What do you think about this one?" he asks without preamble, and I shake my head to clear the lusty haze that always clouds it when his eyes meet mine.

"Umm … I'd say no. It's a fossil, so it was once alive, but it's more than dead now because all the living parts have been replaced by minerals."

He glances up at me, the hint of a smile lightening his somber expression. "Agreed, Tum—um, Bella."

My eyes shoot to his in shock, but he's staring down at the table. That's the first time he's _ever_ used my name. But he's off to the next station before I can reel my jaw up from the floor, so once again, I scramble to follow him. He's … different today. Cautious, somehow.

We continue with the assignment, but I decide to try to make conversation around it. It's the best chance I've had yet to try to figure him out.

"Did you enjoy the game last week?"

Gorgeous stills and his eyes flash to mine, widening a little. "Yeah, it's always good when we win."

"Your brother was the MVP. That's pretty cool."

His teeth grab his upper lip, but he doesn't miss a beat. "He's really good. I think he'll get scouted this year."

"We missed that last touchdown, watching the fight," I observe, and Gorgeous tenses beside me, his hand curling into the fist that it didn't that night. "When that sophomore boy jumped in, I thought—"

"What did you think?" Gorgeous snaps, turning to glare at me before I can even finish my sentence. I watch him carefully, but I'm not afraid. On the contrary, it seems like he is.

"I thought you'd throw the next pu—"

"What, just because Mike's a drunken asshole, I have to be one too?"

"Well, you usually—"

"You know _nothing_ about what I usually do," he spits at me.

"I was just going to say—"

"Well, you're wrong."

"Can I finish my _damn_ sentences?" I bark at him, garnering the attention of the three groups around us and Mr. Banner.

"Something wrong here, kids?" Banner asks as he approaches, glancing between us.

"No, sir," Gorgeous responds quickly, moving on to the next station. His cheeks are on fire, as I imagine mine are, and I can see his chest rising and falling rapidly. He's just as pissed as I am, but I have no idea why. I know I was fishing for information, but I didn't expect him to lash out like that. Why the hell can't we have anything that resembles a conversation?

We finish the assignment in silence, and when the bell rings, Assward runs out of biology like the pussy I'm starting to think he might be.

I just shake my head, more confused than ever. Why don't the good-looking boys ever make any sense?

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

It's Monday morning, and when I arrive at school, the halls are in such an uproar you'd think Justin Timberlake just entered the building in a speedo. Girls are screeching; some are bright red and look embarrassed, and all the boys are laughing their asses off. What. The. Fuck?

As I open my locker, a memo on official school letterhead falls into my hand.

 _Attention: Mandatory Vagina Inspection_

 _To all female students at Forks High School:_

 _The district is required to conduct a mandatory vagina inspection on all female students at Forks High School in accordance with Washington Health Code 69. Vagina inspections will be conducted on Friday, October 6, promptly at 8:05 AM, and makeups will take place the following Friday at 10 AM. All students who have not already completed a vagina inspection must attend one of these two mandatory sessions. Students will be excused from any classes they miss in order to attend an inspection._

 _Please note: All clitoral piercings must be removed prior to inspection, and the traditional Northwestern Pass/Fail judging system will be used. Please ensure that vaginas are clean and orderly. A "Fail" will be given for all unshaved vaginas._

 _For questions, please contact Richard "Stick" McCockiner, Director of Vaginal Corrections._

I throw my head back and laugh out loud, and Jessica and some other prim and proper girl I've never met look at me as if I've lost my mind. They seriously don't think this is hysterical?

Just then, Angela comes strolling up, wearing what The Gothlet and I have come to refer to as her "Ben's my love-muffin" face. She returns to earth when I thrust the memo at her.

"Oh. My. God. Is this what everyone's going nuts about?"

"Looks like it. I think there was one in every girl's locker this morning."

Angela snorts. "Oh, Mean Greene is gonna be _pi-issed_ when he finds out."

"Who do you think did it?"

"There's no doubt who did it," Angela answers, casting her eyes down to the end of the hall. Ken doll and Gorgeous are standing in the middle of a large group of junior and senior boys, and both are getting slaps on the back.

"So, Stick McCockiner, can I be your assistant?" one of the seniors shouts, thumping Gorgeous on the shoulder.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he answers, but his shit-eating grin would tip off a five-year-old. His brother, Emmett, stands just behind him, grinning and shaking his head.

"Hey, Lindsay, I'll do your mandatory inspection for you," one of the jocks calls, going after the ass of a blonde who glares at him as she hurries away, and all the boys howl with laughter.

The day goes on, and while the administration is obviously pissed, no one gets busted for the memo because there's no evidence to incriminate anyone, not even fingerprints!

Gorgeous has a smug little smile on his face when he walks into biology, and most of the boys crack up as he walks by. He sits down, shaking his head, but he's obviously quite pleased with himself.

"Nice one," I say, and he startles a bit as he looks over at me.

"What?"

"I said, nice one this morning," I repeat, turning a little red.

"Why, Tumbleweed, whatever do you mean?" he purrs, his words thick with sarcasm, and I'm about to snark back when his dancing eyes meet mine. Wow, he's in rare form today. Maybe we can actually have a conversation. And _holy shit,_ does he look hot when his smile reaches up and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, nothing, Stick," I answer, but the grin stays as he turns his attention to the front, and my chest floods with warmth.

Our next encounter is anything but warm.

"Hey, Sarah, it's time for your inspection!" Ken doll calls after one of the sophomore girls from his position on the steps after school. "'Stick' here and I have just what you need."

All the boys snicker as poor Sarah's face goes red.

"Nah, let her go. She doesn't have anything _worth_ inspecting," a familiar velvet voice chimes in, and now the laughter is loud, and Sarah's face crumples as she turns away.

I stop so suddenly that The Gothlet runs into me, but I only have eyes for the copper-haired boy who's smirking, enjoying the spotlight of shame and embarrassment he's just shined onto another human being.

"Come on, Bella. At least, it's not us this time," The Gothlet says, urging me forward.

I move, but my glare stays locked on Assward until he meets my eyes. The smirk freezes on his face, and he stares as I mouth "asshole" at him.

Now his eyes narrow, and he glares right back, but none of the guys notice because Ken doll is already making fun of someone else.

"Bella!" Our stare down is broken as The Gothlet waves a hand in front of my face. "What the hell are you doing!"

"Letting Assward know he's an assward."

"Yes, I _saw_ that," she replies, exasperated.

"Why should he get away with that kind of crap? That girl didn't do anything. He's just being a dick for the sake of being one," I answer, my pique still right at the surface.

"While I applaud your brass balls, haven't we had enough trouble with them lately? Things finally seem to be calming down for Ang. Let's not get them focused on us again, okay?"

"But it's not right," I argue, not really sure why I'm pushing the issue—it just feels like what I should do.

"I know it's not right, but we can't change it. No one can," The Gothlet replies, a sad little frown on her face.

I know she's right. This is the nature of high school, and probably a microcosm of the whole world. The strong prey on the weak, and if you're not the weak at the moment, you're still powerless because all it takes for you to become the weak is to open your mouth against the strong. Sometimes life just _sucks_.

As I follow her out into the parking lot, The Gothlet's words run through my head again. Where exactly _are_ my brass balls coming from?

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

As the week goes by, Stick McCockiner sees the end of his fifteen minutes of fame, and the use of the word "vagina" in the halls drops significantly. It's a pity, really. It was kind of fun to watch the girls' faces flame—when their personal assets weren't being disparaged, anyway.

Since my non-verbal chastisement of him Monday after school, Gorgeous has been ignoring me. I waited eagerly for Friday's biology lab to come so he'd be forced to talk to me, but Banner showed us a movie, and Gorgeous spent the period with his head on his desk. _Coward._ I don't feel bad about giving it to him for embarrassing that girl, but guys like him usually shake that shit off and don't look back. He can certainly dish it out, but somehow when I give it back, it feels … wrong. It's like I don't want him to be the one doing these things because I want him to be a decent guy, and so I get angry, but after I get in his face, I feel as if I've kicked a puppy. I just don't get it.

On Tuesday afternoon, as I make my way to my locker after physics, the junior/senior hallway is once again in an uproar. Groups of boys are clustered around their phones, laughing hysterically. The popular girls have smirks on their faces, but the rest look slightly horrified. Uh oh. Which poor girl is the target this time?

The Gothlet darts in front of me, her eyes wide as saucers, and grabs my arm. "Have you seen her?"

"Seen who?"

"Angela! We need to find her before she sees!"

My stomach drops into my shoes. "Sees what?"

The Gothlet takes a gulping swallow as she hands me her phone. I breathe in sharply and nearly drop the damn thing. It's a picture of Angela in only a bra and leggings. But the humiliation doesn't end there. There's an arrow pointing to one of her boobs and a caption that says, "Training bra: clearly not needed." On the other side, there's an arrow pointing to her nearly flat stomach, captioned, "Whore handles."

FUCK.

ME.

"Scroll down," The Gothlet whispers, clutching my arm tightly.

The next picture is Angela sitting down, gym t-shirt on, and her knee drawn up and bare from the pant leg she just removed. Her panties are pink cotton with an arrow pointing to both front and back —"Worn out" and "Insert here."

JESUS CHRIST ON A FUCKING POGO STICK.

"Who?" I growl, a tidal wave of anger overwhelming the tears stinging my eyes.

"Rumor is Newton or Assward."

I turn and glare at Ken doll, but his back is to me, and he's surrounded by most of the senior boys, laughing and making lewd comments. Tears of frustration roll down my cheeks. There's nothing I can do to humiliate _him._ Anything I say will just make things worse for Angela, and likely make me the next target. The other boys surround him like the outer wall of a fortress; their approval of his jackassery is disgusting.

I heave a frustrated sigh, trying to hold my temper in check. "Let's find her," I tell The Gothlet, and we leave the drove of douchebags behind.

We search every bathroom and the empty classrooms, both of us calling and texting her as we go. By the time we make it back to our lockers, the halls are all but deserted, and we've had no luck finding Angela.

"I bet she saw it and ran," The Gothlet says, shaking her head. "I'll drive by her place on my way home and text you if I find her."

"Okay," I tell her. "I just have to pack up, then I'll head out too."

The Gothlet gives me a sad smile as she turns away, both of us understanding what kind of hell tomorrow will bring. _Stupid fucking boys and their need to put others down to raise themselves up!_ I slam my locker shut with a bang as my anger flares … and Gorgeous rounds the corner.

It feels as if the Big Bang happens again inside my chest. All my emotion—sorrow, disappointment, humiliation, fear, hurt, frustration, and an unbelievable amount of anger—rush together and explode outward in every direction.

"Hi, Tum—" he gets out before whatever he sees stops him cold. "What?"

"Was it you?" I growl, taking two steps toward him.

"Was what me?"

"Don't play with me, jackass; you know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about!"

His expression was merely curious before, but now Gorgeous' eyes narrow as he snaps, "No, I really fucking don't, so either tell me or leave me alone."

"This!" I yell, shoving my phone in his face. His eyes widen, and he snatches it out of my shaking hand.

"Where did you—"

"It _was_ you, you asshole! How _could_ you!" I scream. As he stares at the picture, Edward's eyes widen even farther, and he gasps as all the color drains from his face.

"Where—"

"You are the biggest _douchebag_ I've ever known! How could you humiliate her like this?"

"But I—"

"FUCK YOU! You're just like the rest of them!" I yell, swiping my phone back as Edward takes a step back, staring somewhere over my shoulder. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to me, which makes me want to fucking kill him.

"Mister Popular! Everything's perfect in your life, so why do you have to go around making other people's lives miserable, huh?" I poke him in the chest for emphasis.

That snaps Edward out of wherever he was, and his eyebrows draw together as he glares at me. "My life _isn't_ perfect," he grates out, but I hardly pause long enough to let him finish.

"Of _course,_ it is!"

"Bella, you have no fucking—"

"You guys are such assholes! You go around putting everyone down and making them feel like _shit_ , just to make yourselves feel good! What kind of a horrible human being _does_ that?"

Edward winces and closes his eyes as my words rain down on him, but when he looks up, there's fire in his eyes. He takes a deep breath like he's trying to calm himself, and I go ballistic because I _want_ him to lose his shit.

"Bella—"

"You and all your fucking perfect friends! Nothing _ever_ goes wrong for you! You have no idea what it's like to be different or alone! You—"

"You know _nothing_ about me, so shut the fuck up!" he roars, stepping forward and getting right in my face. I can feel his hot breath as it comes in gasps—his face is bright red, and there's a vein bulging in the middle of his forehead. He looks as if it's taking everything he has not to hit me. He brings a clenched fist as high as his waist, then he storms off down the hall, leaving me fuming in his wake.

 _I wasn't fucking done yet._

I take off after him, breaking into a jog as he whips open the door to Mrs. Goff's room and storms inside.

 _Fuck that asshole; he's going to listen to every Goddamn word I have to—_

But Edward isn't standing there, ready to round on me and continue right where we left off. He's sitting on the floor with a faraway look on his face.

I don't want to hesitate, but the hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. Something's wrong.

"Edward?" I say, taking a tentative step toward him.

His eyes snap to mine, and there's terror in them, and embarrassment.

"J-j-just g-g-go, B-b-bell-a-a," he stutters out, and he lays down on his side on the floor.

I stand there, confused and undecided, flummoxed by his odd behavior. I know he really wants me to leave, but something tells me I really shouldn't.

Just then his whole body stiffens, and I freeze, unable to look away. He throws his head back, eyes closed, the tendons in his neck standing out rigidly, but he doesn't look to be in pain. He doesn't look to be really conscious either. And then, with a cry, he starts convulsing.

I watch in horror as his body jerks uncontrollably. I'm unable to move. His head hits the floor with an audible thud, and suddenly, I'm propelled into motion—I slide across the floor and put my knees under his upper body, instinctively turning his head to the side and holding it as his body twists and writhes. As I hold him, I notice that I can only see the whites of his eyes, and his lips are turning blue. I don't know who's shaking more violently, him or me.

And then, as suddenly as they began, the convulsions stop. Edward goes limp against my knees as he gasps for air, his lips regaining a little pink with every harsh breath. He moans a little, but his eyes don't open.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

I pull out my phone, but I don't have Emmett's or his parents' numbers. I'm about to dial 911 when, with a flash of intuition, I reach for his arm, grasping the bracelet on his wrist. Now that I can examine it closely, I see the small caduceus in the bottom corner. I turn it over, and printed on the back in large black letters it says:

Edward Cullen  
Epilepsy  
ICE: XXX-XXX-XXXX

I dial the phone number with shaking fingers, and a moment later, a woman answers.

"Hello, Esme speaking."

"Mrs. Cullen? This is Bella Swan."

"Yes, how can I help you, dear?" I can hear the confusion in her voice.

"I'm with E-Edward, and h-he just had a s-seizure," I stutter out, and the line goes dead for a moment as we both absorb what I've said.

"Oh my God! Is he all right? Is it over?"

"Y-yes, I think so. He stopped shaking a minute ago."

"How long did it last?" she presses urgently.

It felt like an eternity, but I try to make a realistic guess. "Um, a minute or two?"

"Thank God," she says, relief evident in her tone. "Where are you?"

"We're in Mrs. Goff's classroom at school."

"I think Emmett is still there somewhere. I'll call him, and he'll come and get Edward. Can you stay with him until Emmett gets there?"

"Of course," I respond quickly. There's no chance I would leave him alone like this.

"Okay, I'll call Emmett now," Esme says. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yes. Just ... shaky."

"I understand, dear; that's normal. If Edward wakes up before Emmett gets there, he's not going to know what's going on. Just tell him that everything's okay, all right? Thank you for staying with him."

I don't know what to say.

"I'll call Emmett now. Sit tight."

"Thank you," I answer, and I hang up the phone.

Edward's still lying on my knees, but he's beginning to move around a bit. I stroke his hair gently, and his eyes snap open.

"You're okay," I whisper soothingly, but the look on his face tells me he has no idea where he is, maybe even who he is … and certainly no idea who I am.

I continue to stroke his hair and talk softly to him, and he closes his eyes and seems to relax again.

We stay like that for about five minutes until Emmett comes barreling through the door.

The sound makes Edward jump, and he rolls to a sitting position.

Emmett's on his knees beside him in a heartbeat, his arm curling protectively around Edward's back.

"Hey, bro, are you with me?"

Edward looks up at him and nods very slowly.

"Let's get you home, okay?" Emmett asks him, but it's more of a declaration than a question.

"Okay," Edward mumbles, bringing a hand to his forehead. "What happened?"

"We'll talk about that later," Emmett answers, putting an arm under Edward's knees as he stands, lifting him easily. Edward lays his head against Emmett's chest and closes his eyes again, and Emmett looks down at him and sighs.

I watch this whole interchange from behind them, unable to tear my eyes away. I've never seen this side of Emmett, and I have a feeling I wasn't meant to ever witness it.

As he stands, Emmett looks at me for the first time. His displeasure is easy to read, but he takes a deep breath and says, "Thank you, Bella," as he walks out of the room.

I just sit there and shake for I don't know how long. I can't process what just happened. Slowly, my brain begins to unfreeze, and I pull myself off the floor and into one of the desks.

 _Oh my God, Edward has epilepsy._ I just sit there for a while and let this knowledge seep into my consciousness. And then, I slowly start to think and puzzle it out.

Obviously, he'd had it for at least a little while since neither his mom nor Emmett were surprised about what happened. If this was the first seizure he ever had, his mom would have flipped and sent EMS, not Emmett. His mom did seem surprised that it happened at school, though. Maybe he doesn't have seizures at school? How could that be? I think about Edward's "vacation" days, and suddenly, it clicks into place. He isn't spending those days playing hooky; he's not in school those days because of having seizures. I wonder if there's some way he knows he's going to have one, and that's why he never has them at school?

Is it possible I'm the first person at school to find out about this? This isn't the kind of thing high school kids would keep quiet. If anyone knew Edward has epilepsy, it would have been whispered to me as he walked by sometime during that first week of school, probably even the first day. All the juicy gossip on everyone else was passed to me that way. And people would treat him differently. If they were nice, they would just walk on eggshells around him, wondering when would be the next time he'd fall down on the floor. If they weren't nice … I shudder to think about how cruel kids can be about things like this. No, there's no way anyone knows.

So, Edward has a secret, and a huge one, at that. That must be why he lost it when I accused him of being perfect. Oh _shit_! Everything I know about him is now cast in a different light.

One thing is certain, though. He's going to be furious that I know about this. But even with how much it terrified me, I don't wish I hadn't been here. The thought of him having to go through that alone, with nobody knowing where he was and that he was in trouble, and no one being there to comfort him after—it's more than I can stand. He's been a jerk, but this afternoon, he was just a boy, lost and frightened. No one should have to go through something like that by themselves.

* * *

A/N: So now we're all in on the secret—kudos to everyone who guessed right about Edward's bracelet, and to the three of you who actually guessed that he had epilepsy. I didn't drop a lot of clues for that, so I'm pretty impressed! I wonder how Edward will feel about Bella knowing? Teaser team on Wednesday night, teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, Chapter 5 will post on Monday. Have a good week, all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **Don't judge people. You never know what kind of battle they are fighting.  
-Unknown**

 **Edward**

I jerk awake as the light seeping through the blinds stabs at my overly sensitive eyes. _Fuck, I must have had a seizure yesterday_ , I think as I throw my arm over my face. My arms and legs feel like lead as I haul myself up to lean against the headboard, my head humming with the persistent dull ache that will last for most of the day. I never admit to just how fucked up I still am the day after a seizure—Mom would flutter around me like a mother hen, and Dad would come up with more tests to run. Nope, I'm better off keeping those details to myself.

Leaning my head against the wall, I reach back in my mind for the last thing I can remember. I never know exactly what happened when I have a seizure, so I have to gather the pieces of scattered memory and fit them together like a jigsaw puzzle.

 _Emmett's car_. The last thing I remember is Emmett waking me up … to get out of his car? _What the fuck was I doing—_

The fuzzy images assault me before I can finish my thought—Bella bitching me out, taking off to get my Spanish book, the aura for the seizure, then—

"Mom!" Yelling makes my head throb, but that's nothing compared to the pounding of my heart as I pant for breath.

 _Oh,_ fuck _, no. No no no no no no_ no _!_

I jump when Mom touches me, barely holding back the panic that threatens to engulf me. My chest is tight and the lack of air is making me dizzy.

"Edward, are you—"

"Did I have … a seizure at school?" I gasp, gripping her arm as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Honey, you need to—"

" _Did I_?"

"Yes."

My chest tightens a little more, but I have to keep going. I have to _know_.

"Was I alone?"

Silence.

"Emmett!"

I can't open my eyes because the room was spinning when I closed them, but I know Emmett's there. He always is.

A heavy sigh. "You were in Goff's room. Bella Swan was with you. No one else."

"Bella called me. She must have looked at your bracelet. Emmett brought you home."

 _Bella._ Pieces of yesterday fly at me in an unrelenting loop as all the air leaves the room. I'm breathing as fast as I can, but I just can't get enough.

 _She knows. Bella knows!_ _Oh God, oh God,_ everyone _will know!_

"Edward, you need to calm down." Emmett's voice, but I can barely hear him as the world seems to go to pieces around me.

And suddenly, terror explodes at the base of my spine. _No no no no no no no_ …

"Mmmmom …"

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

 _Fuck!_ I groan as I roll over, my head pounding and my bladder screaming. I have no idea what the hell is going on, other than if I don't pee soon, I'm going to explode. Sitting up is agony—I'm so exhausted that my legs shake as I stand and a wave of dizziness hits me. Somehow, I manage to stay on my feet, trying my best not to think of anything other than my goal of getting to the bathroom.

The wall holds me up once I reach the doorway, and within seconds, there's a strong arm around my waist and a head poking under my shoulder.

"What are you doing up?" Emmett asks, modulating his voice to a whisper when he sees me wince.

"Bathroom," I mumble, and he supports me down the hall and deposits me in the doorway.

"Are you okay to do this by yourself?"

I nod, moaning and clutching the side of my face as the pain throws me off-balance. Emmett squeezes my shoulder and closes the door behind him. I do my business in a daze, and when I open the door, Emmett is there waiting for me. Normally, I refuse when anyone tries to help me this way, but I'm so bone weary that I gratefully throw my arm over his shoulders and stumble back to my room. I make to fall into my bed, but Emmett sits me on the side instead, producing two Tylenol, a PowerBar, and a Gatorade as if by magic.

"You've got to be hungry. You haven't eaten since lunch on Tuesday."

My hands shake as I reach for the Tylenol and Gatorade, and after I toss them back, Emmett thrusts the unwrapped PowerBar into my fist.

"What time is it?"

"Eleven. On Wednesday night."

"Fuck," I mutter as my mind starts looking for the pieces.

"Don't think about it."

"What?"

"Until tomorrow. Don't think about what happened. Just go back to sleep, and we'll work on it in the morning. I'll help. I promise."

 _Work on what?_ "Emmett, what are—"

"I'm serious, little bro. Finish that and go back to sleep. You can hardly keep your eyes open."

I want to argue with him, but I just don't have the energy. And Emmett usually shoots straight with me—if he says not to worry, I trust him.

"Okay," I answer, hoping I can finish chewing before I fall asleep so I don't choke.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

I wake with a gasp, my hand flying up to clutch at my head. The pain is blinding, but as much as I want to curl up in a ball, I know my roiling stomach will never tolerate that much movement.

"F-f-f-fuck …"

"Edward?"

 _Dad._ Of course, it's Dad.

"How are you feeling?"

His voice is calm and soothing—his bedside-manner voice. The one I always hear when something's wrong.

"My head. God, it hurts. What happened?"

"You had a seizure two days ago, and then yesterday, you had another one. That's why your headache is worse than usual. I want you to take some codeine and rest for a while longer, then we can talk about what happened."

 _Jesus Christ_ , two _days in a row? That hasn't happened since freshman year. No wonder I feel like I've been hit by a train._

"Son?"

I open my eyes slowly, and in the semi-darkness of my room, Dad's concerned eyes meet mine.

"There you are. Let's take the edge off that pain."

I raise myself onto my elbow, still gripping my head, and swallow the pills Dad hands me with a lukewarm glass of water.

As I lie back down, Dad grips my shoulder—because he knows better than to go anywhere near my head. "Just relax and try to go back to sleep. Everything's going to be fine."

Something's really not right, but I'm hurting so much that I can't focus away from the pain long enough to figure it out, and I really don't want to. Just trying not to vomit is taking everything I have, and as soon as the fuzziness from the codeine hits me, I pass out again.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

"Edward."

"Edward, it's time to wake up."

I roll to my side, curling up and pressing my palm to my forehead. The ache is there, like I've had a seizure, but I can't remember …

 _Bella._

The last three days, or what I can remember of them, come flooding back as my stomach rolls and my chest solidifies.

 _No …_

"Son, try to stay calm. If you hyperventilate again, you could have another seizure—"

"I went to school today, Edward. No one knows anything. Bella must not have told anyone."

"What?" Emmett's words break through my escalating panic attack.

"No one knows. It was just a normal day."

I uncover my eyes to find Emmett inches from my face, kneeling on the floor next to my bed. "Are you sure?"

He exhales sharply and smiles. "I'm sure. I was there all day, and no one said anything. You know there would have been talk if anyone knew."

"Was Bella there?"

"Yes. She didn't talk to me, but she looked … confused. I think she was looking for you."

I roll onto my back and press my palms into my eye sockets.

"How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. Tired. But my head is much better than when you gave me the codeine, Dad."

"That's good," Dad says, massaging my shoulder. I open my eyes, and Emmett hasn't moved, but now I notice Dad on his left and Mom on his right, hovering over me.

"Can you eat something?" Mom asks, the hope and the need to take care of me unmistakable in her tone.

"Yeah." My thoughts are still whirling, wondering how the hell this happened, and why the whole school doesn't know yet.

Mom lifts a tray from the floor, holding my usual post-seizure fare: peanut butter and jelly and a Gatorade. If I've slept for a long time or the headache is bad enough, I often wake up nauseated, but PB and J is almost always a sure thing.

Em stays where he is, and Mom perches on the edge of the bed while I eat, but Dad remains standing—a harbinger of the questions to come. Mom holds back until I'm eating the last bite of my sandwich, but just barely.

"What happened?"

My head is still aching, and all I want to do is hide from that very question. _How did I have a seizure with no warning?_

"Edward?"

I close my eyes and huff out a breath. There's no way they're gonna let me avoid this.

"I don't know. I got … angry. _Really_ angry. And I went to get my book, and then the aura for the seizure started."

"You had no other warning?" Dad asks, absently studying the books on my shelf, but I know he's much more focused than he looks.

"No. Nothing."

"So what did you do?" Emmett asks, his words clipped.

"I only had a moment, so … I just laid down on the floor."

"Alone."

It's not a question, but I answer anyway.

"Yeah." _Oh, fuck, here it comes._

"Why would you do that? You know what could happen if no one's with you," Mom says.

Emmett huffs out a breath as he stares daggers at me. Mom doesn't get it, but he does.

"He doesn't give a shit about that. All he cares about is that no one finds out."

Anger flairs in my chest. "What did you want me to do, Em? Walk out into the hallway so everyone could watch?"

"Well, if you hit your head on the floor and die, then what the hell will it matter who knows and who doesn't!" he rages at me, getting to his feet.

"Boys!" Dad's sharp tone cuts between us, but we're still glaring, breathing hard.

Dad catches my eye, and I look away, crossing my arms as if that will ward off the lecture.

"Edward, you know better than that. Emmett's right; you could have hit your head, you could have choked—what if no one had found you? You should be grateful Bella was there to save you from your own stupidity."

"Grateful? Now the whole fucking school's gonna know what a freak I am!"

"Language!" Mom snaps, but I don't care. My mind is back on the consequences of what happened as I drop my head into my hand and take deep breaths.

"I _told_ you! She didn't tell anyone!" Emmett barks.

"Yeah? Well, that doesn't make any sense! She _hates_ me, and now she knows something about me that would set the whole school talking! Why _wouldn't_ she tell _every_ one?"

"I don't know! All I know is that no one knew anything today. I watched and I listened, and it was just like every other day."

"Maybe she's just waiting to do it in front of me."

"Edward! I can't imagine this girl would do something like that. She sounded so worried for you on the phone," Mom says, covering my hand with hers.

I shoot Emmett a look, and he shakes his head just a little. We both know there's no point in trying to explain to Mom how cruel teenagers can be, and if I did manage to convince her, it would just make her more upset.

"Son, I think you need to rest this evening so you'll be ready to go back to school tomorrow. I'm sure you can talk to this girl and sort it all out."

Dad's got a little bit more of a clue than Mom, but not much. But he's right—my head still hurts and I have no energy, and tomorrow is gonna be the day from hell.

"Sure. I think I'll just lie here and watch TV for a while."

Mom looks pacified; Dad, concerned but willing to give me space; and Emmett? Emmett shakes his head and walks out of the room. He'll be back before long.

I channel-surf for a while, but my thoughts just keep going back to what happened, and I have to fight to keep the panic down. _Why the hell did I have a seizure with no warning? Will it happen again? Is Bella going to tell everyone?_

Things had been going so well. I hadn't felt afraid like this since it all began—when I didn't know what was happening to me. The thought of living with that uncertainty again sends a shiver down my spine. I honestly don't know if I can handle it.

I startle as the hulking form of my brother blocks out the light from the hallway.

"That really was a dumbfuck thing to do, you know."

I glare at him, but I know better than to say anything. He's already pissed, and I'm not feeling up to a rumble right now.

"Just … keep your phone in your pocket from now on, okay? I know you used to—"

"I still do. But I had already put it in my coat before I ran into Bella, and I just stomped off without thinking."

"She laid into you about Angela, didn't she?"

I can feel my cheeks heating as Emmett stares me down.

"Speaking of dumbfuck things to do—"

"Honest to God, Em, I had no idea that's what he wanted them for."

Emmett crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at me.

"Seriously! He's got a crush on her, and everybody knows it! I don't think anyone knew how pissed he was about what happened with Ben. I just thought he wanted them … you know, for himself."

Emmett snorts out a laugh. "If that's what he's looking for, he'd be better off with Playboy."

"Yeah. Thank fuck, I didn't give him all of them."

Em's jaw drops. "You've got _more_?"

I close my eyes and rub my temple with my fingertips. I still have a headache, and I know what's coming.

"Yes. I shot all the girls in the locker room that day. Nobody's naked or anything—just bras and panties."

" _Jesus_ , Edward! You could get expelled! Or arrested! What the hell's the matter with you? Practical jokes are one thing, but this is serious!"

"I know, I know, but Mike—"

" _Fuck_ , Mike! Let him fill his own spank bank or humiliate girls! I've never understood why you do whatever the hell he wants anyway."

 _That's because you've never had a secret to keep._ "Look, I know it was dumb, okay? But what the hell am I gonna do now? Mike knows I have the rest, and if I don't give them to him, he'll kick my ass!"

"He can't kick your ass," Emmett fires back, his arm flexing as he makes a fist.

"Oh yeah? I wouldn't put it past Mike to corner me alone, and what good are you to me once I'm on the ground?"

"But—"

"No, Em. I wouldn't tell him even then."

"You stubborn fucker, you probably wouldn't." Emmett glares at me, huffing out a frustrated sigh.

Suddenly, his eyes light up.

"Tell him I deleted the pictures!"

"What?"

"Yeah," Emmett answers, now on a roll. "He wouldn't dare try to kick _my_ ass, and that gets you off the hook. Yeah!"

" _No_ ," I snap, trying to rein in my irritation and failing miserably. _He's just trying to help, you ass; now, calm the fuck down!_

"Why not?" _Dammit, Em, we've been through this before_! I yell in my head, trying to keep my blood from boiling.

"Because you can't … just … fix everything for me!" I growl, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation.

"There are plenty of things I can't fix for you," Emmett mumbles.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Just think about it, okay? You're right. I can't protect you all the time, and we can't have Mike hitting you."

I grimace as that sickly feeling of not being normal turns my stomach. _If I could just take a punch like the other guys—_

"I'll … think about it," I concede, sighing as I drop my head into my palm. I don't want Emmett saving my ass this time. There's got to be a way I can get out of this on my own.

Emmett's shoulders relax. "I'm sorry you're having such a shitty week."

"Yeah, and it's probably going to get shittier," I fire back, my thoughts returning to Bella and the much bigger problem I have to face tomorrow.

Emmett smiles at me, back on steadier ground. "We'll figure something out. I don't think Bella's waiting until you come back to say something. If she were gonna do it, she would have done it already."

I shake my head, staring down at the blanket. "I don't get it."

"Try to get some sleep," Emmett says as he turns. I want to tell him that all I've done for two days is sleep, but I know I'm not gonna last much longer. Sadly, it's probably better this way. If I wasn't wiped out from the seizures, I'd probably spend the whole night freaking out.

* * *

A/N: So are we happy with the change of scenery? This story is split POV—mostly by chapter, except for a few instances. Edward has quite a complicated life—much more so than the average teenager. Teaser team on Wednesday night, teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, Chapter 6 will post on Monday. See you then!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **A secret is a kind of promise ... it can also be a prison.  
– Jennifer Lee Carrell**

"Ed, get up. Being late isn't gonna make your day any better." Fucking Emmett. Does he have to remind me before my eyes are even open that it's gonna be a crap ass day?

I haul myself up to sit on the side of the bed, and I actually feel pretty good, physically. The heaviness in my limbs is gone, and my head sort of hurts, but not really. But the tight ball of worry in my chest is making it hard to take a full breath, and as I get ready, I keep dropping things.

When I finally make it to the kitchen, I can feel the looks shooting like laser beams behind my back between my family members, and I bite my lip, trying to contain my irritation. The juice glass slips from my trembling fingers, and suddenly, I'm surrounded.

"I'll clean that up, honey."

"Edward, was that—"

" _No_ , it wasn't," I grate out, turning to face the concerned expression of my father. "I'm fi—"

"He's nervous," Emmett, the wonder douche of helpfulness, blurts out. "He's still worried Bella's going to tell everyone his secret."

I whirl around, ready to lay into douche boy, but I find myself chest to chest with my father.

"I want you to take some Xanax this morning, and carry some with you for later, if you need it. Stress could bring on another seizure, and that's the last thing you need right now."

"Dad—"

"I'm not asking, son," he says, grabbing another glass for me and pouring the juice with his surgeon-steady hand. He retrieves the pills from the cabinet, holding one out to me and dropping two more into a little pill container. Goddammit, I _hate_ taking meds at school.

"Fine," I growl, popping the pill in my mouth, slamming the juice, and swiping the pill container off the counter. The kitchen is stifling, and if I don't get out of here, I'm gonna to do and say things I'll regret.

Douche and I ride to school in silence—my anger and frustration surround me like volcanic rock, ready to blow at the slightest disturbance, and I'm pretty sure he can feel it.

I'm out of the car the second it stops moving, but I slow down as the school building looms in front of me _._ For the first time, there will be someone here who isn't obligated, through love or the law, to keep my secret. The secret I've had since the summer before my freshman year of high school, and that, with my family's help, I've guarded and kept flawlessly. _Oh fuck, oh fuck, is today finally the day?_

My breath starts coming in shallow pants, and I stop at the bottom of the steps, trying to get a grip. _Breathe. Maybe Emmett's right, and she's not gonna tell anyone. You're only hurting yourself by freaking out, and you're putting yourself at risk for another seizure._

I draw in as deep a breath as I can and climb the steps, hoping to make it to my locker without talking to anyone.

But every look makes me paranoid. Every glance, every stare from a girl who's probably just checking me out—every time, that little voice in my head just screams, _do they know_?

"Have a nice vacation, Cullen?"

I look up to find one of the sophomore boys, whose name escapes me, grinning and winking at me.

"I was actually sick this time, dumbass," I growl, pushing past him and the shocked expression on his face. I'm not in the mood to perpetuate the lie today. My house of cards is already on shaky ground on too many other fronts.

As I walk into homeroom, Bella's eyes dart to mine, but she quickly looks down and away. My cheeks heat, and I swallow thickly … but wait, is _she_ blushing? Why the hell is _she_ blushing when _I'm_ the one who was drooling and on the floor in front of _her_?

I sit down, my heart thudding in my chest a mile a minute. She could do it now—tell everyone—and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. _Look normal. Breathe normal. Don't draw attention to yourself._

"Hey, Cullen! What the fuck, man? Where've you been for the last two days?" Mike leans over the back of his seat, fixing me with a curious stare.

My stomach churns as I stare back, considering my options. I could tell him I was on "vacation," but I usually only do that for one day at a time, and it'll likely lead to more questions. And considering that right now, I feel like I'm gonna throw up …

"Stomach bug," I answer, wiping the sweat from my brow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bella's head snap up, and my heart flies, but she just stares at me, her expression unreadable.

"Ew," Mike says, recoiling a bit. "I think I'd rather be at school."

Jasper's been listening the whole time, and he gives me a sympathetic look. I nod back, and that icky feeling flutters through my chest. I hate lying to Jasper, but it's necessary. Just like all this other shit I do.

"You owe me some things," Mike says, lowering his voice and grinning evilly.

Crap, the pictures. I forgot about that little problem in the face of the much bigger one. "Oh, uh … yeah."

"Later," Mike says, turning around as Mr. Varner calls us to order.

I missed so much shit being gone two days that school distracts me for most of the morning. That is, until I walk into biology.

Bella's already sitting there, fidgeting with her notebook and doing anything but looking in my direction. Like this morning, she looks … kinda nervous. Two days ago, she ripped my fucking head off, but now, she can't meet my eyes? Unless … oh, _fuck_ , is she worried I'm gonna have another seizure, right here in the classroom? My heart sinks as the familiar feelings overtake me—I'm a time bomb. Just like my family, she thinks I'm made of glass now, ready to shatter at any second. _Fuck._

As I sit down, I squeeze my eyes shut, _hating_ how it feels to be weak, different, and _alone_. I slam my binder open, giving what rein I can to the anger that courses through me. I never wanted this—not at all, but _certainly_ not here.

"Um … Edward?"

I hear her, but I'm still breathing heavily and trying not to throw my binder across the room. _You should be nice to her—she's holding your life at this school in her hands,_ the voice of reason whispers in my ear, but I can barely hear it over the thud of my heart.

"Yeah," I answer, staring straight ahead.

"Are … are you all right now?" she asks timidly, and my anger morphs to confusion. I just can _not_ figure this girl out. One minute, she's all shy and quiet, and the next, she's glaring at me in reproach or chewing my ass out. And why do I even fucking care? She hangs out with the misfit crowd, so I shouldn't even be talking to her.

"I'm fine," I push out through gritted teeth.

"I was worried when—"

" _I said I'm_ _fine_ ," I repeat, and she pulls back as if I've slapped her.

"Oh," she whispers and turns back to her notes, letting her hair fall over the side of her face.

My fingers curl into a fist on top of my thigh. I want to stand up and scream how _not_ fine I really am, how much I hate this fucking situation I'm in, and how scared I am that she's going to ruin me with a slip of her tongue, if she hasn't already. But I can't do any of that. As usual, all I can do is sit here and pretend. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing as Mr. Banner starts his lecture, and within a few minutes, I'm able to take notes and push it all aside for the rest of the period.

As soon as the bell rings, she scurries out of the classroom before I can even begin to come up with what to say to her, and I feel like I blew it. But the worst part is, thanks to my wonderful conversation skills, I still don't really know if she's told anyone. What if she didn't tell the whole school? What if she told one or two people and it's slowly spreading around? _Fuck._

As I'm heading to lunch, Jasper falls into step with me. Usually, that's a good thing. Jazz and I have been friends since riding a two-wheeler was cool, and we've always been close … or at least, we used to be. Now, we're as close as I can let anyone get who doesn't know my secret.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks, sounding honestly concerned.

"Yeah, I've just been sick."

"So I heard. Did you really take those pictures for Mike?"

 _And here's another country heard from._ "Yes," I answer tightly.

"Dude, why? Pranks are one thing, but that shit was way over the line."

"I didn't know about the captions, all right? If I'd known he was going to humiliate her like that—"

"What and the pictures weren't humiliating enough? Whose idea was it? I didn't hear about it, so I'm betting it wasn't yours."

"No."

"Why the fuck do you do his dirty work, man? I've never understood—"

"It was a bad idea, okay? I didn't think it through."

"Tell me next time. I'll help you think it through."

My chest gets that empty feeling as I look at him. I'm so accustomed to it that usually I hardly notice, but today I'm … scared, and I wish I could say that to just one person. But I can't. It's bad enough I have to deal with Bella's accidental knowledge.

"Yeah, sure."

He gives me a piercing look, but he doesn't say anything more. I wonder how much of my bullshit he actually sees through. We both get in the lunch line, but I have no idea what I can possibly eat that might survive the maelstrom in my stomach. Gatorade it is, then.

By the end of the day, I'm positively twitchy, so I pop the Xanax Dad gave me on the off chance it'll actually calm me the fuck down. I still jump a mile when Mike claps his hand down on my shoulder. "Jesus, Edward! What's your fucking problem?"

 _Oh, if he only knew how many problems I have right now._ "Nothing. I didn't hear you coming."

"So, where are the rest of my pictures?" he asks, leaning against the locker next to mine. "I have some Photoshop work to do."

"You never told me you were going to do that to Angela."

"So? Once I saw them, I was inspired," he answers, leering at me. "And I think I need a little more … inspiration tonight. Maybe the new girl."

 _Stand up to him. Just tell him you deleted them._ "I don't have them anymore."

"What did you say?" Mike grabs the front of my shirt and twists, and suddenly, I find myself pressed up against the lockers. The back of my head hits the door behind me—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to scare the fuck out of me. I can't risk getting into a fight. If he punches me in the face, it could trigger a seizure.

"Emmett deleted them. He was pissed about Angela, and I couldn't stop him," I say quickly, the lie tripping off my tongue just the way all the others do. _Fuck, fuck,_ fuck!

"Dammit! Your brother is a dick, you know that?" Mike growls, releasing me. I just nod my head, trying not to choke on the lump of shame in my throat. Emmett was right, Mike wouldn't dare try anything with him, but I feel like such a pussy letting my brother take the blame for my dumbass decisions.

Mike walks away, and I want to slam my locker shut in frustration, but he's only halfway down the hall, and I know he'll be back if I throw a shit fit. I gather my books, wanting to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible. The hall was pretty full when Mike cornered me, so all eyes are on me as I shoulder my bag and stomp out of the building.

 _Are they watching me because of Mike, or because they know?_ The voice of annoy-the-fuck-out-of-me niggles at me, and as my anxiety climbs up a notch, all my muscles tighten. I take a deep breath, knowing that if I have a panic attack I'm sure to have a seizure. I need to get my stress level down somehow or something bad is going to happen.

I'm nearly to Emmett's car when I see Bella standing beside her truck, and it's as if my brain makes some kind of self-preservation decision without my consent. I veer to the right, arriving just in time to put my hand over hers so she can't open her door.

"Who did you tell?" I demand, glaring at her.

"What do you mean?" she asks, taking a step back from me.

"I said, _who did you tell_?" I yell, getting right up in her face so she flinches and jumps back.

"No one!" she squeaks.

"No fucking way."

"Honest, I haven't said anything!" she reiterates, her eyes wide.

"Jesus, you really don't have a fucking clue, do you?"

She looks at me blankly.

I sigh in annoyance. "You've got the hottest fucking piece of gossip in the whole school on the tip of your tongue, and yet you say nothing. _Edward Cullen_ has epilepsy. Let's all watch the freak boy have a seizure," I finish sarcastically.

When I look up, her hand is covering her mouth, as if in shock.

"Why would I tell anyone that?" she whispers.

"Why wouldn't you?" I counter, staring at her with open hostility. "Because that's what high school kids do! You're supposed to tell everyone you know how weak I am, and how you saw me out of control. Or, you're supposed to tell me you'll keep quiet if I do something for you, like take you to the prom or some shit. What you're _not_ supposed to do is stare at me like I'm crazy when I'm telling you what a normal girl would do in your position!" I finish in exasperation.

"I would never do any of those things."

"Why?"

"Because it's none of their business," she says quietly.

I'm sure my mouth is hanging open. I stare at her for a full minute, trying to understand this sometimes brazen, sometimes bashful creature before me, but none of it makes sense, and I'm so tired of dealing with all of this today.

I turn tail and stomp off to Emmett's car in a huff, throwing my bag into the backseat and myself into the front seat forcefully. As I slam the door, Emmett glances over at me, a grimace on his face. "I take it that didn't go well?"

"No … yes … fuck, I don't know!" I growl in frustration, flinging my head back against the headrest. "That girl makes no fucking sense to me at all!"

"Is she gonna say anything?"

"No."

"What did you have to do to buy her silence?"

"Nothing! That's the whole fucking problem! She told me she wasn't going to tell anyone, pretty much just because it's the right thing to do. Who the hell _does_ that?"

Emmett is silent for a moment, considering. "Do you believe her?"

"I guess?" I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "What the hell choice do I have?"

Emmett sits quietly for another few minutes, and I can almost see the hamster running on the wheel. The little guy seems to be getting tired. "What, Emmett? I can smell the brain cells burning."

"Well … what if you gave her something she didn't ask for?"

I sigh heavily. It's been a rotten, stressful day, I'm tired and my head hurts, and my jackass brother wants to play the riddle game rather than just tell me what I should do. Fucking perfect.

I cover my face with my hands, massaging my forehead with my fingertips. "Could you just fucking tell me what you think I should do? I really can't handle the twenty questions method of getting to your opinion right now."

"What if you went out with her?"

I drop my hands and turn to stare at him in open-mouthed astonishment. " _What_?"

"She's cute and she has a nice body. Go out with her. Convince her that you like her, and date her for a while."

"That is the batshit craziest idea you've ever had! Why the fuck would I want to do that?"

"Think about it, Edward. If she's your girlfriend, she's not going to want to do anything to hurt you. And if you're with her all the time, you'll know she's keeping quiet."

"But—"

"Come on, when was the last time you dated a girl? And I'm not talking about that shit in the janitor's closet with Lauren Mallory; I mean _really_ dated a girl?"

"That's not the point—"

"You're right, it's not the point, but dating once in a while couldn't hurt your image, and getting laid would certainly improve your disposition."

I don't date girls. That doesn't mean I've never been with a girl. I've messed around with my fair share, including Lauren Mallory, and we've both come out of the encounters having gotten what we wanted. I just never let them get too close because I'm not willing to take the risk of them uncovering my secret. Emmett has a girlfriend—Rosalie. They've been dating since before Christmas last year. She despises me because she thinks I'm the spoiled baby of the family who gets away with everything.

I snort and shake my head. This whole conversation is completely insane, and yet for some reason, I feel the need to continue to argue with him. "She'd never go out with me. She hates my guts. This whole thing started with her calling me out as a colossal asshole for what I did to Angela."

"She doesn't hate you. It may take a bit of doing to convince her to like you, but I think you're already on your way."

"And how do you figure that?"

"Dude, give your big brother a little credit for experience with girls. You've already got her sympathy. And she knows something about you that almost no one else does."

"I know," I grate out. "That's the fucking _problem_."

"I know, dumbass, but if you'd just shut up for a minute and listen to what I'm trying to tell you—"

I cross my arms like a petulant toddler, but I remain silent.

Emmett nods his approval. "You can use what she knows to get her to like you. Tell her something related to your epilepsy that makes you different from everyone else. Girls like things that are different. And if it gets you more of her sympathy, too, that's even better."

"I don't _want_ her sympathy," I mutter, scowling.

"No, what you want is for her to keep your secret for you, and now you need to decide to what lengths you're willing to go, to see that it happens. I would think a little sympathy and the potential to get between her legs isn't too high a price to pay."

"I don't know, Emmett, it doesn't seem … well … right somehow."

"Look, I'm not suggesting you intentionally hurt her or anything. Just … keep her busy for a while until the novelty of this wears off. I'm sure she'll get bored with you after a while and decide to move on, and that way she won't be mad at you, so she'll still keep your secret."

"Why is she gonna get bored with me?"

"Because she's a smart girl and you're a butthead."

My fist flashes out and catches his bicep, but I think it hurts my knuckles more than it hurts his arm. He just chuckles and shakes his head.

Now that I think about it, maybe it isn't such a bad idea. Bella _would_ be loyal to me if we were dating, and it would get Lauren off my back. She's been pining for me for two years now, and making her way around the block while she waits. But I'm not gonna hit that—not ever. And … Bella _is_ kinda cute. She has those big brown eyes and long hair to match—I have a thing for brunettes …

"Hey, lover boy, you workin' the details already?"

I startle and look over to find Emmett staring at me, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"Fuck you, Emmett." Brilliant response, but I'm distracted right now.

"Just think about it? I really think this is the best way to get what you want."

"I'll think about it," I reply.

* * *

A/N: Oh, what a tangled web we weave … Teaser team on Wednesday night, teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, Chapter 7 will post on Monday. See you next week!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **To know a man's secrets is to discover his weakness, and thus control his will.  
– Jeremy Aldana**

 **Bella**

I watch Gorgeous' retreating back, still trying to catch my breath. I honestly can't tell if I'm terrified or really turned on. He flew over here like an avenging angel, green eyes glowing like some freaky Halloween ghoul, the auburn in his hair seeming to intensify with his fury. _Jesus, that was hot._

But as my heart slows down, it starts to hurt. Did he really think I would tell everyone or try to blackmail him? What the hell kind of shallow bitch does he think I am? I play the high school games I need to in order to survive, but I'd like to think I'm a decent person most of the time. Is this really what he's used to dealing with? Resting Bitch Face comes to mind immediately—yup, this _is_ what he's used to dealing with. That skank would have his favorite hoodie, his class ring, and his dick on a keychain if she knew his secret.

It's sad, really.

God, I'm so fucked in the head right now. I'm still furious with him over the pictures, but every time I want to march up to him and tear him a new one, I just keep seeing a defenseless boy convulsing on the floor, at the mercy of his own body. I Googled epilepsy as soon as I got home that day, but there are so many different types and so much information, and I have no idea what he has. Where was he for two days? Was he sick like he said, or was it seizure-related? Was he that afraid I'd tell everyone that he stayed away from school?

Fuck. It doesn't matter. What he did to Angela was despicable, and his own problems are no excuse. As I start my truck, I see Emmett drive by in front of me, and Gorgeous is slumped down in the passenger seat, looking miserable. The pang of sadness that pierces my chest just makes me want to kick his ass for ever showing me that he's not perfect. Damn him.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

"You ready?" Angela asks from beside me, her books clutched in her arms to head for Monday morning homeroom. It's been a rough few days for her, but what Gorgeous and Ken Doll did was so over the top that most of the girls have been sympathetic, and even some of the guys. But not the popular crowd, of course.

As I shut my locker, Gorgeous materializes beside me.

"Bella?"

I close my eyes for a second, debating, but then I hear Angela's angry huff beside me. I turn away from Gorgeous and head down the hall.

"Bella!" he calls, and I glance back over my shoulder, starting to walk faster as he struggles to catch up.

"Bella, wait! Please?"

I slow my pace, and he catches up to me, but I don't turn to look at him. "What do you want, Edward?"

"Can we talk?" he asks, bending down a bit to peer at my face to try to get me to meet his eyes.

"We _are_ talking," I point out. It seems my fucked-up head has decided that sarcasm is the order of the day.

"Two minutes," he says, dropping his gaze to the floor and then looking back up at me, but his chin isn't quite as high as before.

I sigh heavily, but he continues to stare into my eyes, his jawline soft, his posture submissive—almost defeated.

"Please."

 _Motherfucker._

As I turn to face him, I see Angela's shocked expression a few feet ahead of me.

"I'll be along in a minute, Ang," I tell her, and the hurt in her eyes is unmistakable. Great.

Anger flares in my chest, but I follow Gorgeous into the little hallway that leads to the art room. As he turns around, he runs a hand through that glorious hair. I know it's likely a nervous habit, but the Sultan of Sarcasm who seems to be in charge of my head today plants the idea that he did it because he knows it'll drive me wild. _Asshole._

"What?" I snap, but he just stares at the floor for a moment.

"I … I wanted you to know I'm not the one who edited those pictures of Angela."

I just snort and shake my head.

"You don't believe me?"

"Why would I? You knew what they were when I showed them to you."

Gorgeous' cheeks turn red, and he jams his hands into his pockets.

"See? Guilty as charged."

"Fuck!" he swears, and this time his hand rakes through his hair more forcefully. "All right, dammit! I took the pictures and gave them to Mike, but I didn't know what he was going to do with them. I had no idea he was going to humiliate her like that, or I wouldn't have given them to him."

He looks up at me, and I can feel my eyebrows reaching for my hairline. Is it possible he really didn't know? "Well, what the hell _did_ you think he was going to do with them?"

"Um … well … I thought they were for, um … _personal_ use."

I narrow my eyes as him, thinking hard. _Personal_ —"Ew! That's disgusting!"

"Yeah, but guys do shit like that, and no one would have ever known. What Mike did was … awful."

I do a double take as all the horrible things I've ever heard him say run through my mind. "Is it more awful than the way you guys have shamed girls in the past? What the hell's the difference, Edward?"

Gorgeous heaves a sigh and closes his eyes, his brows pulled tight in a wince. "Look—fuck, Bella, I don't want to argue with you! I just—I'm sorry, okay? I never meant to hurt anyone."

Dammit, he really does look sorry. For some reason, I really want to hate him for this right now, but my resolve is fading fast. Truth tends to wash away things like that.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to. You should apologize to Angela."

"You're kidding," he says, looking at me as if I've just asked him to eat shit. Well, I _am_ asking him to eat crow …

"No, I'm not. She's the one you hurt here, not me."

"Well, you're the one who went ballistic on me …"

Now it's my turn to flush with embarrassment. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have—"

"Are you sorry because you saw me have a seizure and now you feel bad for me?" he interrupts, looking resigned.

"No, they're not really related. I'm sorry because I made assumptions about you and I shouldn't have. You were right; I don't know anything about you."

" _Do_ you feel bad for me?"

"I don't know," I answer. I guess in some ways I should because of the seizures, but nobody likes being pitied. The look of shock on his face makes me pause. "Should I?"

"Umm ... no. I guess not," he says, searching my face.

"What?"

"You might just be the first person I've ever met who doesn't," he answers, looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen him.

It's too much because, right now, all I want to do is pull him into my arms and shield him. I cross my arms in front of my books to prevent them from winding around him.

"Will you apologize to Angela?"

"Bella—"

The bell rings, and it's as if we've both been doused in cold water. He straightens up, and I grip my books tighter.

"Think about it, Edward. If you're truly sorry …" I say before I turn away, leaving him behind with both of our truths for company.

When I walk into homeroom, Angela's eyes are downcast, but The Gothlet is practicing her short-range death-by-glare skills. Fuck, she can be scary when she wants to be!

Her eyes follow me all the way to my seat, and when I don't drop over dead, she looks a little disappointed. Her brows morph into the "what the fuck, Bella?" look, and I'm doing my best to pacify her, using hand gestures, when Gorgeous walks in.

The Gothlet's glare shifts to him, but for once, he doesn't glare back, and he doesn't say a word. His eyes meet mine, and I jut my chin out toward Angela, but his lips just form a thin line and he sits down in front of her. _Coward._

As soon as we're out of homeroom and Gorgeous is out of sight, The Gothlet rounds on me. "Just what in the hell was that all about?"

Angela stands off to the side, not accusing but certainly listening.

"Gorg—um, Edward told me he wasn't the one who captioned the pictures."

The Gothlet stares for a moment before regaining her powers of speech. "Why would he tell _you_ that?"

"Well … I may have gone apeshit on him about it on Tuesday after school."

The Gothlet's lips turn up in a smirk. "You laid into Edward?"

I gulp as the words "laid" and "Edward" provoke a completely different vision in my head, but I think I can pass the heat in my cheeks off as smugness. Yep, smug as a bug in a rug, that's me.

"Um … yeah? He showed up right after you left that day, and I let him have it."

"Was he the one who took the pictures?" The Gothlet asks.

 _Fuck. I was hoping we could get around this._ Wait, why was I hoping that? He _did_ do it, and I should be following the girl code here.

"Yes."

"Then he's just as guilty as Mike," The Gothlet proclaims, nodding her head.

"Thanks for bitching him out for me," Angela says, putting her hand on my arm.

"Yeah, you've got balls, Bella," The Gothlet adds, grinning.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

Gorgeous doesn't talk to me in biology, but the silence feels thoughtful and not hostile, for once. Ever since last Tuesday, the vibe I feel between us is different—the heat is still there, but the distance and the anger don't seem to be. Regardless, I have nothing to say to him. He's hurt my friend and he's obviously not sorry, so there we are.

As I'm packing up my books after my last class, Angela walks up to me in a daze.

"Are you okay?" I ask, only half-paying attention.

"Edward …"

Okay, now she has my _full_ attention.

"Yes?"

"Edward … apologized to me for taking the pictures."

"He did what?" I can't have heard her right. There's absolutely _no way_ Gorgeous actually did what I asked him to do this morning. It's inconceivable.

"He apologized to me. He said it was wrong, and he was sorry, and he wouldn't do anything like that again."

"Shut the fuck up!" The Gothlet pipes in from Angela's other side. "Was he high?"

"No," Angela answers, still spaced out. "He was just … nice. Sweet, even."

It takes me a second to realize it, but that pull on my cheeks is my own doing—I'm grinning so widely it's almost painful.

A locker bangs open three down from mine, and the smile freezes on my face as Gorgeous' eyes widen. His bushy eyebrows draw together, and I nearly choke on the air in my throat as my heart seems to warm and expand. I close my eyes and drop my chin as heat sears my cheeks.

 _I bet he thinks that smile was for him._ Well, it was, but he wasn't supposed to see it. _Oh fuck it all, I can't believe he actually acted like a human today_.

I leave with Angela and The Gothlet, but as we turn the corner, I catch Gorgeous staring into his locker, a goofy little smirk on his face. _What the hell is he up to?_

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

When I walk into biology the next day, Gorgeous is already sitting there leafing through his notebook.

"Hi."

I'm lowering myself into my chair when the sound of his voice from beside me drives all thought from my head, and I thump down hard on the seat, nearly tipping over backward.

Gorgeous grasps my forearm, but he lets go as if I'm on fire the second he realizes he's touching me. My skin prickles. I can feel every individual hair jump back up as if they're reaching for him, so I rub my hand over the spot self-consciously.

 _Did he just? And then he—_ I stare at him dumbly, still rubbing my arm until he glances down, and his cheeks turn a delicious shade of crimson.

"Usually, when someone says hi, you say hi back," he points out, his tone a little sharp.

 _Well, yes, but not when that person has never said hi before and they're acting all weird and confusing and you're attracted to them but they're an asshole and_ —

"Hi."

I stare at him, trying to adapt to this new version of Gorgeous, who offers social pleasantries instead of insults, and his handsome face morphs into a scowl.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. "I'm not gonna fall apart, you know."

"What?"

"I'm still me. I'm the same person you sat next to before."

 _No, you're not because now you're talking to me._ "Before what?"

"Before … last Tuesday. It's not gonna happen again. I just wanted you to know that." It sounds like something good, but as I look into his eyes, all I see is sadness.

"Not ever?"

"Not here," he says firmly, effectively ending the conversation.

The silence stretches on as we both stare at our desks, so I break it with what's been ricocheting around my head for the last eighteen hours.

"You apologized to Angela."

"Uh … yeah," he answers, but his eyes now shoot to mine in silent accusation. "I told you I was sorry."

"Yes, you did, but I didn't think you actually meant it."

"Maybe you don't know everything there is to know about me," he fires back, and it gets my dander up.

"I think I know more than most."

He tenses, and if humans could smell fear, I know this place would be reeking right now. He swallows thickly as his hands curl into fists. "Yes," he says quietly, and I know I've royally fucked up his attempt to have a semi-normal conversation with me. _Fuck._

I want to fix it somehow, but it's like I've walked into one of Renee's flowerbeds. Even if I take the shortest path out, I'll still be trampling things, so I just sit there until Mr. Banner starts boring us with his lecture.

Edward steers clear of me for the rest of the day and the next one too. I want to say something to him, but I can't get, " _I'm sorry I assumed you were going to be a dick but your moods change so quickly it makes my fucking head spin_ ," to sound quite right in my head.

So I try to distract myself. We have a big English paper due next week. Maybe, if I go to the library, I can kill two birds with one stone.

The room is empty when I enter, but I honestly didn't expect anyone to be here. Most kids fly out of the building like bats out of hell within five minutes of the final bell—God forbid any more knowledge get into your head than is absolutely necessary.

I peruse the shelves, considering just reading something for fun, but dammit, that paper isn't gonna write itself. I locate a copy of _Dr. Faustus_ and start looking for the similarities to Shakespeare.

Just as I'm really getting into what I'm reading, the library door swings open, and Gorgeous struts in like he owns the place. He freezes and his eyes widen as his gaze falls on me.

"Hi," I say, trying not to grin at how flustered he is. Clearly, he thought no one else would be in here.

"What are you doing here?" he blurts.

I furrow my eyebrows. "Studying. This is the library, you know, right?"

He smirks and looks down, then I'm the flustered one when his bright green eyes glint with mischief. "You're getting better at the saying hello thing."

"Yes, I've been practicing."

He walks across the room slowly, setting his bag on the table catty-corner to where I'm sitting.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Do boys actually do homework? I think I may have caught a rare event in the wilds of high school.

"I'm waiting for Emmett to finish at football," he says as he sits, pulling out his physics book.

"How long is his practice?"

"Until five," Gorgeous answers. "I usually have plenty of time to get my work done."

"That's a long time to be stuck here. Why don't you just drive yourself in on the days he has practice?" He's a doctor's son—surely he has his own car.

He stares at his book for a long moment as a blush slowly colors his cheeks. Oh, _shit_.

"You don't drive, do you," I say, but it's not really a question.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, and he takes two deep breaths before he speaks. "I don't have my license," he says, playing with the edge of his book. "I'm … not allowed to drive."

I stare at him, trying to comprehend what just happened. He could have told me he was lazy today and didn't want to drive. He could have told me it was none of my business. Hell, he could have blown me off entirely and changed the subject.

But he didn't.

Instead, he told me something that no one probably knows. The _second_ thing I know about him that no one else does.

"Is that because—"

"Yes. It's because … I have epilepsy." He says it so quietly, as if the words taste funny in his mouth. I wonder if he's ever uttered them out loud before, other than when he yelled them at me.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have followed you that day—"

"It's okay, don't be sorry. I ... I never thanked you, for what you did. I shouldn't be alone when ... that happens. I could choke or hit my head—"

"You did hit your head," I blurt out, and Gorgeous buries his hand in his hair. "That was when I—"

"What?" he asks, looking as if he could vomit any second, and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.

"That was when I held your head on my knees … until it stopped."

"I can't do this," he mutters, and he's up and out the door before I can even blink.

I stare again, but this time at the empty space where he was. What the hell just happened? It seems like I'm thinking that almost every time we see each other now—will I ever understand a single thing this boy does?

But I do know one thing.

For some reason, he's actually trying to talk to me.

* * *

A/N: Oh, Edward. Nothing is easy for you, is it? Teaser team on Wednesday night, teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, Chapter 8 will post on Monday. See you next week!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets.  
** **\- Paul Tournier**

The next day in biology, we exchange hellos, but the look on Gorgeous' face seems to say, "Please, don't talk to me," so I don't.

At the end of the day, I'm not sure what to do. I've checked out _Dr. Faustus_ , so I don't really need to go to the library, but I still want to. I want to see if he'll be there again, and if he'll talk to me. _You shouldn't be doing this_. Yeah, but it's just talking. What can it possibly hurt?

When I get to the library, it's empty, and instead of choosing the front and center table, I sit at the one in the back of the room and off to the left, a little behind the last bookshelf. That way, I'll be able to see him if he comes in, but he can ignore me without any trouble, if he chooses to.

About five minutes later, I hear the door open, so I make a concerted effort not to look up. The rustle of his bag pauses for a good thirty seconds, but then it resumes and gets closer until the flutter of my heart tells me he's standing over me.

"Hey," he says, and I pretend to be startled, but I can't seem to maintain the pretense when I meet his eyes. They're … calmer today.

"Hey."

"Change of scenery today?" he asks, thumbs hooked in his pockets, relaxed but somehow, not.

"I … thought maybe you wanted to work alone."

"So you sat back here?"

"Yeah."

His eyebrows furrow, and he cocks his head to the side, and whatever wasn't relaxed in him seems to let go a little bit.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

Heat surges through my chest, fluttering over my lungs and singeing my throat. _He wants to talk to me! And he's waiting for an answer._

"S-sure," I stutter, my cheeks warming with embarrassment.

He sits, but he doesn't pull out his books.

"Were you as bored in biology today as I was?"

I miss a beat, not expecting him to start a casual conversation, but just as it's getting awkward, I recover.

"Totally. How is the life cycle of a fungus _ever_ going to help me in real life?"

"And Banner just found it so fascinating."

"You know, I just thought of a real-life application—shrooms. If you planned to grow your own, today's lecture would be vital information."

Gorgeous laughs, and my breath catches as his face is transformed. I've seen him laugh when he's with the boys, but what's happening now isn't even close to the same.

"Do you think that's why he was so into it? He's actually the Walter White of biology?"

We both crack up, and after that, the conversation flows easily to the latest rumors about the other teachers. It's a small school, so everyone knows everything about everyone else's business, and Gorgeous is a fountain of knowledge about it all since he grew up here.

He looks so … different when he's sitting here talking to me. He's relaxed in a way I've never seen, and believe me, I've been observing him quite closely for _weeks_.

"Do you really think he's boning her?" I ask, and Gorgeous makes this gasp-laugh sound as his look turns incredulous.

"What did you just say?"

"Um … I asked if you thought he was boning her," I repeat, wondering what the hell I've done to make him look at me that way.

His eyes sparkle with mirth as he grins at me, and my heart beats a staccato rhythm in my chest. "That's what I _thought_ you said. I've never heard a girl use that word."

 _Is he serious?_ He looks serious. But I guess, now that I think about it, it's not really a word most girls would use, or if they do, not in front of a guy. I'm not really a flirt, but damn, he set me up so perfectly. I wonder …

"Well, I guess I'm not your average girl."

"No, you're certainly not," Gorgeous says matter-of-factly, shaking his head. And then he freezes, and his eyes widen just a little. He looks down to hide his surprise at his own words, but he can't hide the blush that spreads from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

We both jump as the door swings open, and Emmett pokes his head in.

"Edward, what the fu—oh, um … Hi, Bella."

"Hi," I answer as Gorgeous scrambles out of his chair.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says curtly.

"Here?" I ask, completely forgetting in my oh-my-God-I-think-he-just-flirted-back haze about the dozen other places I'll see him before the end of the day.

"Uh … yeah," he answers as he walks out the door behind Emmett, and I walk on air for the rest of the day.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

The next few days seem to fall into a pattern—during school, Gorgeous doesn't talk to me overly much, but his smiles are a little freer, and he never says anything nasty. But every afternoon when we meet in the library, we talk like we're the best of friends. He doesn't even pretend he's going to do homework, and my English paper was handed in days ago—we just sit down and talk as if we've been doing it forever.

He loves college basketball and 30 Seconds to Mars. He hates the chicken patties the caf serves on Thursdays and the way Mr. Varner grinds his chalk into the board. He can't wait to see "The Dark Knight" and the Summer Olympics. Movies and music, rumors and dirty jokes, but never once does he ask about my family or past, nor does he talk about his. It's intimate, but distant, and that's probably good because out in the real world, we move in different circles, and I know it can't be any more than this.

Or at least, I don't think so.

"Come on, Edward, they sucked. They could have replaced Hayden Christensen with a two-by-four and the acting would have been the same."

"But, Yoda fighting with a lightsaber! That right there makes it all worthwhile."

"The romance was so cheesy, though."

"It's Star Wars! Who the fuck cares about the romance?" Gorgeous exclaims, exasperated, and I can't help but laugh.

"Boys," I huff, shaking my head. "It doesn't matter what shit gets destroyed, if Padme and Anakin don't get it on, then there's no Luke and no Leia for the _real_ Star Wars movies."

"You're hopeless," Gorgeous declares, mirroring my posture.

"I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree," I tell him, not backing down one iota.

"Shit! It's five-thirty," Gorgeous says, his eyes on the wall clock. "Emmett should have been here by now."

He pulls out his phone and rings his brother, but he swears again when he gets voicemail.

"I bet that douche met up with Rosalie and forgot to tell me. Cocksucker."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing at his "brotherly love." "I could give you a lift home …"

He tenses—I can see it in the slight rise of his shoulders as he breathes in—but it only lasts a few seconds before he blows out a frustrated breath.

"Um … yeah, if you wouldn't mind."

A lump forms in my throat, and my spine tingles. _Does he not want to be seen with me?_ _Is that what this is?_ Other than Emmett, no one knows we've been meeting in the library after school.

Before he can get up, I lay my hand on his arm, and he stills, his eyes rising instinctually to mine.

"Why do you meet me here every day?"

He draws in a sharp breath, and his cheeks bloom like roses in the space of a heartbeat, his eyes wandering down to the buttons on my shirt.

"Edward?"

"I … don't know. That first day we just … and Lauren and Katie would never talk about Batman or Star Wars …"

I bristle at the mention of the bitch brigade. This boy better quit while he's behind.

He glances up at me, then away. "You know me better than they do. All of them."

He looks shocked at the words coming out of his own mouth, and he's not the only one. _How the fuck does he figure that?_ Most of the time, I feel like I don't know him at all.

"Are you ready?" he asks a little too quickly, as if he can't wait to get away from this conversation.

"Sure," I tell him, gathering up my things.

He follows me to my truck, but to my great surprise, he doesn't say one word about it. The thing was built in nineteen sixty-three, and the rain has turned the red paint to a burnt orange color, where it even has paint—even my dad takes pot shots at it from time to time. He just gets in, and when I join him, I notice his knee is bouncing. He's still nervous about this for some reason.

"You'll have to give me directions," I tell him as I pull out of the lot, but Gorgeous is staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts.

"Hey." I put my hand on his knee, and he jumps, taking a sharp breath in.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Are you okay?"

"That's not what you said."

"No, but it's more important now than what I said."

Another deep breath. "I'm fine. I was just … somewhere else."

I want to ask where he was, but the bounce is back to that knee, so I don't. "I said you'll need to give me directions."

"Oh. Right. I'm off La Push Road."

Nodding, I head up the one-oh-one.

He's quiet for a few moments, but I can feel his tension growing. The knee has stopped, but now his fist is slowly bouncing off the ancient armrest. If he keeps that up, it's liable to fall off.

"Things would be so much easier if I could drive," he says, as if to himself. But he didn't say it to himself; he said it out loud, for some reason. To me.

"Have you ever?"

"Driven? Yeah, I know how; I just can't do it legally."

"Is that true for everyone who has … what you have?"

"No," Gorgeous says, his hands now clenched in fists on his knees. "Most people who have … what I have can control their seizures with medication. There's a drug that's basically a cure for most people, but it … doesn't work for me."

"If the drug worked then you wouldn't have any more seizures?"

"That's the idea," he says tightly.

"So how long would you have to go without a seizure before you could get your license?"

"The state of Washington says you need to be seizure-free for six months," he answers as his gaze fixates on his knees. "I can't go more than three weeks without having one."

"You're kidding," I blurt out, and he grimaces as if he's in pain.

"I wish," he says, shaking his head. "I fought hard against it in the beginning, since my … um, seizures are so predictable, but the state decided there was too much danger of them becoming unpredictable. I guess they were right."

"What do you mean, predictable?" I ask. Now that he's talking about it, I might as well try to get all the information I can.

He shifts his shoulders a little bit—I get the impression he's uncomfortable talking about this. I'm about to tell him he doesn't have to tell me when he speaks up again. "Well, what I have involves more than one kind of seizure. There are little ones, and then there are the big ones, like the one you saw, and the little ones always happen before the big ones so I know when a big one is coming."

His explanation is simple enough to understand, although he's avoiding the details carefully. Unable to suppress my curiosity, I press further. "Is that why you miss school so much?"

He looks up at me quickly, the surprise evident on his face. He furrows his brow in thought for a moment, but then he relaxes again. "You don't miss a trick, do you?"

I smile at him smugly, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, that's right, the little seizures happen in the morning on days when I'm going to have a big one, so I stay home those days. I guess if you know my secret, it's not hard to put that together. I'm just not used to anyone knowing, so you caught me by surprise when you said that."

I just have one more question, but I know I'm probably pressing my luck. "But … the day I was with you … it didn't happen that way, did it?"

His eyes widen, and fear and sadness wash over his face. He looks down again as he always seems to do when he's talking about something that bothers him. "No … that day I had no warning. That's only ever happened twice before, and never anywhere near school." He pauses and bites his lower lip, but he seems compelled to continue. "And then the next day, I had another one at home without warning."

"You're scared, aren't you?" I say softly, reaching out and touching the top of his hand … and I've gone too far.

He pulls his hand back and makes a fist with it. "Let's talk about something else, okay?"

And just like that, the window into Gorgeous' thoughts slams closed. _Fuck._ My curiosity is nowhere near sated, but at least, I got something. Actually, quite a few things.

"Turn here," he says after a few moments, and I turn down a heavily wooded drive. After a few minutes, a house comes into view and I gasp. It's three stories tall and the most modern architecture I've seen in western bumblefuck. All right angles and smooth lines, the house is a mix of wood and stone, but most of it is floor-to-ceiling windows. It looks as if a giant punted it here from LA, or maybe Geneva.

"Damn," I mutter, and Gorgeous glances over at me nervously.

As I pull around the circular drive, he already has his bag in hand. "Thanks for the ride, Bella," he says quickly, and he's out the door before I can put the truck in park.

I watch him take the stairs two at a time, still marveling at the house, and he pauses with his hand on the doorknob. He turns and gives a half-hearted wave, and I know I've been dismissed. It says, " _Get the hell out of my driveway_ ," in no uncertain terms, and I can't help the tightening in my chest, cursing myself for a fool as I drive away.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

By the time I wake up the next morning, the sting of Gorgeous' dismissal has mostly faded, and I'm again confused as hell about what's up with him. One minute he's opening up, and the next he's shooing me like a stray cat that comes looking for scraps. But I can't help the tidal wave of warmth that washes through my chest just at the thought of seeing him again. It's Tuesday morning and I'm sitting in homeroom with The Gothlet, listening (sort of) to what she's saying (read: nodding and smiling in all the right places), but my head is a thousand miles away, wondering when Gorgeous is going to walk through that door and what he'll be wearing today. Will it be the button-fly jeans? Jesus Christ on a cracker, do I want to straighten that part that never lays quite flat and listen to him moan as I brush against his—

"Bella, are you even listening to me?"

I snap back to the present and grin at her sheepishly. "Sorry."

"What's up with you lately? You're … spacey and distracted all the time."

I haven't told The Gothlet or Angela about my little titillating trysts with Gorgeous. As I keep having to forcefully remind myself, it's not going anywhere anyway, but I still feel kinda bad about it knowing what he's done to them over the years.

"Nothing. Homework, I guess. We've had a lot lately." I know my face is turning red, but I can't help it. I always was a lousy liar.

The Gothlet gives me a shrewd look, but she doesn't say anything. It's as if she knows it will all be revealed in time—all she has to do is wait. Damn that girl and her emo-ESP.

Thankfully, Angela chooses that moment to stroll in, her lips red and swollen from her latest face-sucking session with Ben, and The Eye of The Gothlet turns in another direction. Maybe she'll find the One Ring.

I return to my inner-eye Gorgeous ogling as Angela gushes about Ben, and The Gothlet tries to look as if she's not drowning until suddenly, the bell rings.

And there's no Gorgeous.

And right away, ice shoots down my spine.

 _Maybe he's just late—the jock boys often are._ But as I look in front of me, Ken doll, Jasper, and Tyler are all present and accounted for. When they're late, they're never late _alone_.

Ken doll jerks his head toward Gorgeous' desk and furrows his eyebrows, but Jasper just shrugs back at him. Ken doll smirks and shakes his head.

And I realize then that I'm the only one in this room, the only one in this _whole damn school_ , who knows that Gorgeous isn't playing hooky today. That he's sitting at home, waiting to have a seizure. Or maybe he's had one already. My stomach gives a sickly flip, and I scrunch my eyes closed as images of Edward convulsing play on a loop in my head. And with a gasp, I realize he's right—I do know him better than anyone here, even though I've only known him for a handful of weeks.

I know the secret that defines his life.

And as I wander through my day, I really start thinking. What must it be like to have to hide all the time? To fear everyone finding out that something's really wrong with you? How does he cope with it? How _long_ has he been coping with it? Is it lonely?

He's the one who started talking to me in the library—maybe he _is_ lonely. It's a startling realization, considering he's always surrounded by the jock squad. I'm quite familiar with the feeling of being alone in a crowd—I just never imagined it might feel that way for one of the popular kids.

A million more questions flutter through my mind, and I realize I really want to know the answers. Not just out of morbid curiosity, and not because he's sex on legs.

But because I want to know _him_.

I know it was lust in the beginning, and then when I saw him have the seizure—argh, it _was_ morbid curiosity _and_ pity for a while there, but now? I feel like I want to help him bear this if I can because, for some reason, I know it and no one else does. Now that I've gotten to know him, I want to be his friend. It's a curious sensation, and it brings a different kind of warmth to my chest. It's still lustful, but it's so much _more_.

I know I can't have his body, and I can't be the girl on his arm, but maybe I can have this. Maybe _we_ can have this.

* * *

A/N: It's amazing what you can learn—about yourself and someone else-when you put yourself in their place. This week is Dragon Con, and I have no time for anything, so there will be no teaser on Thursday and no chapter next Monday. Teaser team will be on September 6th for Chapter 9, and the chapter will post on Monday, September 11th. Have a nice holiday weekend, US folks!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **Secrets are generally terrible. Beauty is not hidden–only ugliness and deformity.**

– **L.M. Montgomery**

As I sit in homeroom, I'm on pins and needles waiting to see if Edward will show up today. I almost went up to Emmett and asked about him yesterday—I even considered asking Mrs. Cope if he was out sick—but in the end, I just kept to myself and worried.

It's creeping toward eight o'clock, and everyone, even the stoners who are habitually late, is in their seats, and I'm just about to dash out into the hall to look for him when he comes ambling through the door.

Relief washes over me in waves, but it's short-lived once I really get a good look at him.

He looks like hell.

The slight purple shadows under his eyes are deeper, and his perfect, unblemished skin looks washed-out and pale. He moves to his chair as if he's wading through deep water, and when he sits, his face scrunches up in a wince.

I glance around the room, but no one else seems to notice Edward's entrance. They're all talking and laughing, waiting for the bell so they can go off and be bored to tears for the next eight hours.

Does he always look like this the day after a seizure? I have to admit I don't know. Maybe I wasn't really looking before. Just like no one else in the room is looking now.

Ken doll claps Edward on the shoulder and says something to him, and Edward glances over, grinning as he replies. But the minute Ken doll looks away, Edward's eyes close and his brows knit together. He's putting on a good show; I'll give him that.

I watch him through English and calculus since we don't sit close enough to talk, and he continues his performance. It's quite convincing, unless you're watching every minute. It's the little things that give him away—how slowly he turns his head to answer Jasper's question, how often he rests his palm against his forehead, how he grips his desk as if it's the only thing holding the earth in place. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was hung over.

Finally, it's time for biology, and as I expected, I beat him to our desk. He trudges in a few moments later, putting on his plastic smile as he approaches.

And I can't help the way my eyes narrow at him, my mouth set in a firm line. Anger flares in my chest, sudden and searing.

His brow furrows in confusion, and he slows his approach, cocking his head to the side.

"You don't have to do that with me," I snap. "I know where you were, and I know something's still wrong, so just cut the crap."

His eyes widen and then narrow, but he drops the façade completely as he slides into his seat. He's angry, but I swear his shoulders are a bit less over his ears.

He rests his forehead on his palm, as I've been watching him do all morning, and for a moment, pain and fatigue just seem to flow out of him. My heart clenches in my chest, and guilt tastes bitter on my tongue.

"I'm sorry," I mutter quietly. "I don't know why I snapped at you like that. I'm just … What is it?"

Edward tilts his head and side-eyes me. "Headache. I always have a killer one the day … after."

"Did you take anything?"

"Doesn't help," he answers, his eyes still closed. "It usually goes away by evening."

I know better than to suggest he should go home. He misses too much school as it is.

"Listen, Banner's just gonna drone on for a while—why don't you put your head down, and I'll give you my notes later?"

Edward lifts his head and searches my face for a moment, then frowns. "Nah, I can't do that."

"Why? You're allowed to have a headache once in a while without people thinking—"

"—that I'm not right in the head?" Edward finishes with a raised eyebrow.

"Well … yeah."

"Um, I guess you're right," he says, laying his head on his arms and finally seeming to surrender to the fact that he feels like shit.

Warmth floods my chest as I look at him … and I like it.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

Edward doesn't show up for gym class, and I sincerely hope he went home or, at least, to the nurse's office if he was still in as bad shape as he was during biology. I don't see him again for the rest of the day, but I still find myself in the library after school, just in case.

After a few minutes of staring at the clock like an addict waiting for her fix, I give myself a good shake and take out my Spanish book. Edward turns up fifteen minutes later, his hair sticking up in all directions as he falls into the chair across from me.

I raise my eyebrows, and he blushes adorably.

"I, um … fell asleep in the nurse's office. I didn't know the day was over until she came and kicked me out."

He puts his head down on his arms, his face turned in my direction and his eyes closed, so he doesn't see my smile. He's not hiding from me anymore.

"Is it still as bad as it was?"

"No."

"But it's still there."

"Yes."

"Why don't you just go home?"

"I miss too much school."

I chuckle. "As if you give a shit about that."

He cracks one eye open and stares at me for a few seconds, then closes it again.

"It'll just freak my parents and Emmett out, and they'll annoy the fuck out of me. There's nothing they can do."

I smile again at his honesty, and decide to press my luck.

"So … what happened yesterday?"

He draws in a sharp breath, and his arms shift as his fingers curl into fists.

"You don't have to—"

"No, it's okay. I think," he says, relaxing his fists but not opening his eyes. "Um … so I told you I have little seizures on the days of the big ones, right?"

"Yes. Are those … similar to the big ones?"

"Sort of, but not really. They're called myoclonic seizures—it's like, have you ever been almost asleep, and then you jerk awake?"

"Sure."

"That's exactly what a myoclonic seizure is, except I'm awake when it happens."

I cock my head at him, not quite understanding, but of course, he can't see me, lying there with his eyes closed.

"Um, I don't think I get it."

"It's an involuntary jerk of a muscle—usually in my arm, neck, or shoulder. Yesterday, the first one happened while I was holding a glass of orange juice, so it flew out of my hand. Made a fucking mess everywhere."

"Shit. Was your mom mad?"

"Nah. Usually after I've had the first one, I don't hold anything for a while, but if the first one hits when I'm in the middle of doing something, there's nothing I can do about it."

Edward chuckles and cracks an eye open again.

"One time, I was sitting next to Emmett, and I actually punched him in the face."

"No way!"

"Way," he answers, smiling at the memory. "Emmett thought I was faking it and wanted to kick my ass, but Dad held him back. When I had another one, he finally believed me."

But the smile freezes on his face. It morphs and changes to a look that's way too intense for my liking. So I try to get him out of it.

"So what happened after the orange juice?"

His brow furrows, and there are those fists again. I can see the muscles in his arms flexing tightly. _Shit._

"I … had four more little ones, and then I had the big one about an hour later," he forces out quickly. "Bella, do you mind if I just lie here for a bit? I …"

He pauses, not sure how to explain what I already know. "Of course, you can. I have Spanish to do anyway."

His arms relax instantly, but the vice grip around my heart takes a bit longer. Why is he doing this? He keeps pushing himself to talk about it, well past the point of his own comfort. What good does it do him? _Unless …_ My heart leaps in my chest, but I'm scolding myself before the thought can even fully form. _You will_ not _do this to yourself, Bella. You will not even entertain the notion that he wants to be anything more than your super-secret friend._

 _And why are you being his super-secret friend in the first place?_ my self-esteem or some other damn thing pipes up.

The answer is instantaneous.

 _Because he needs one._

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

The rest of the week goes by, and we meet in the library every afternoon, talking and laughing as if it's the most normal thing in the world, while, during the school day, we only talk during biology.

But other than that, it seems as if I only see him from afar, and that _is_ odd. I almost never see him at his locker, he's either into our common classes way before me or as the bell rings, but most of all, he never seems to be around anymore when shit goes down. Angela and I caught some abuse from Ken doll in the hallway today, and The Gothlet said Tyler was giving her a hard time yesterday after last period, but Edward wasn't anywhere to be found during either event. I've seen him in the cafeteria being Ken doll's wingman in assholery toward other unfortunate souls plenty of times over the last few weeks, but it's never us anymore. I want to ask him about it, but every time I try to bring it up, I chicken out.

Today, we're talking about books.

"No way," Edward says, his eyes nearly neon green with intensity.

"Way," I answer, chuckling.

"There is _no way_ you've read Game of Thrones."

"Why not?"

"Because … you're a girl … and there's fighting, and whoring, and … really?"

"Yes, really. Do I need to prove it to you?"

"Um …" Edward stammers. Oh, my God, is he adorable when he's flabbergasted. And I love that I can shock the shit out of him with my "non-girly" taste in, well, pretty much everything.

"My favorite character is Arya because she's such a badass. But Jaime is a close second because he's grown so much since the first book."

I think Edward's eyes just might fall out of his head if he doesn't blink soon to keep them in there, and the surge of warmth in my chest flows right up and out into the smuggest of smiles.

"Close your mouth, Edward."

He ducks his head as his cheeks redden, but it only takes a few seconds before he can no longer contain his excitement.

"Oh, we have _so_ much to talk about."

"Okay, who are your favorite characters?"

He pauses, stroking his chin as he stares out the window, but suddenly, he stops and his expression seems to go blank. I let the silence go on for a few seconds, but the longer it does, the more uncomfortable I feel.

"Edward?"

"Edward? Hello?"

He doesn't answer me, but he begins to stroke his chin again.

"I'd have to say Tywin and Jon Snow, because … what?"

His brow furrows—I have no idea what's showing on my face, but I can feel my cheeks warming. What the fuck just happened?

"Um … you disappeared for a moment there. I called your name, twice, but you didn't answer, and then you answered my question like you never even heard me."

"Fuck," Edward mutters under his breath as he stares down at the table and a deep blush roars up his chest and over his cheeks, all the way to the tips of his ears.

For some reason, it makes me a little panicked.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

He closes his eyes and sighs heavily, as if he needs to collect himself. When he speaks, it's to his hands resting flat on the table, and not to me.

"Yeah, um … I'm fine. Sometimes, I zone out a bit like that. Could you … I mean, it's nothing. But if it happens in front of someone else, could you not draw attention to it?"

"Of course." Then the light bulb goes on.

"Edward is this related to—"

"Yeah," he responds quickly, his cheeks reddening even further. "It's actually a type of seizure."

 _Holy fuck._

"You're kidding."

"I wish. It's called an absence seizure. I just kind of … go away for a few seconds."

 _Jesus Christ,_ another _type of seizure? That's three kinds so far, by my count._

"Do they happen often?"

"Um … a few times a day, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, if no one else notices, I, um … I can't really tell."

"You can't tell?" _Jesus, I sound like a parrot here._

"No, they're so brief—unless there's something going on that I notice a gap in, or someone else notices, there's no way for me to know."

"Damn. Do other people ever notice?"

"Um … my family does. But if it happens at school, I usually just say I was daydreaming. Can we stop talking about this?" Edward asks, his eyes shifting up to mine. The plea in them is clear, and we're both red as tomatoes.

"Uh, yeah. And if I see that you're … elsewhere when we're with someone else, I'll cover for you."

Like that's ever going to happen, but I feel compelled to make the pledge anyway.

He had started to look down again, but at my words he raises his head quickly, his gaze piercing me. "Really? That's … Are you sure?"

"Of course. Now that I know your secrets, I'll help you keep them."

Edward smiles, but he looks … uncomfortable somehow. Is there anything that makes this boy truly happy?

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

"Are we really having a Spanish quiz?" I ask The Gothlet as I rifle through my locker before homeroom. "Because I still don't know my—what the fuck!" I shout as I skitter to the left to avoid the fingers that are tickling my side.

He doesn't turn around, but there's an auburn head of hair bobbing down the hallway in front of the two senior girls I almost ran over, and my shock morphs into a smile that could outshine the sun.

"What. The. Fuck?" The Gothlet slams my locker door shut and I startle, the reality of where I am and what I just did making my cheeks go supernova.

"Was that … Edward? And did he just … touch you? And you … you _smiled_ about it?"

 _Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck._ I am busted _big time_ because The Gothlet doesn't dick around.

"Um …"

"Come here, girlfriend," she says, grabbing me by the strings on my hoodie and pulling me into the very same alcove by the art room where this all began.

There's fire in her eyes, but I can't tell if it's curiosity, molten fury, or the depths of Mount Doom I'm staring into.

"Why the hell did Edward touch you just now?"

"I don't—"

"You know _something_ because you smiled like Robert Smith was in your gym shorts."

"Who?"

"Do you like him?" The Gothlet demands.

"Robert Smith?"

"No. Edward! Keep up, Bella!" she yells, nearly stomping on me with her steel-toed Doc Martens. "Listen, I've been watching you eyefuck Edward for weeks now, but I figured it wasn't going anywhere because he's Mr. Popular, and we're … us."

"We're just friends, Alice. I swear! I—"

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Back the fuck up! How are you two friends?"

 _Jesus Christ, Bella, verbal vomit much?_

"Um … well …" The Gothlet's shoes of doom tap out a frantic beat as she waits. I don't think patience is her strong suit. Hell, I don't think it's even in her deck.

"Yes?"

"We've been talking—after school—for a few weeks now. In the library."

She takes a deep breath, and I'm immediately suspicious. Either her Ritalin kicked in or she was just possessed by the ghost of Dr. Phil, but either way, I don't like my chances for survival.

"Bella, he's an asshole. You know this. Why would you even talk to him?"

"He is … but he's really not," I stammer, trying to find a way to make her understand without divulging Edward's secret. "Asshole can be only skin deep—it's what goes down to the bone that matters."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" All of a sudden all emo-action ceases, and a look of horror spreads across The Gothlet's face. "Oh, my God, you're already under his spell! He's going to ask you out and then fuck you over! That's what guys like him do to girls like us!"

Her words sucker-punch me right in the gut, and every fear I've ever had about this threatens to trample the one good thing I have going at this school. _No!_

"No, I'm not, and … he won't! Alice, this shit's ridiculous! All we've ever done is talk, and that's only when no one's around. He's never going to acknowledge he talks to me, so it's impossible he'd … that we'd—oh, fuck it, there's no way!"

The Gothlet's eyes go wide—I don't think I've ever had a shit-fit in front of her before, but she doesn't back down. She huffs out a breath and shakes her head.

"I know what I saw, and I know how this goes. He's going to make you the laughingstock of the whole damn school."

And with that, she turns and stomps off.

 _What the hell just happened?_

I seem to be thinking that a lot lately.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

The morning passes in a haze, mostly because I'm thinking about The Gothlet's words and what Edward did, and … No way. There's _no way_ there's more to this than Edward and I being secret friends. He must have just slipped up this morning—maybe he meant to tickle Resting Bitch Face instead.

And even if there were more to it— _cue uncontrollable blush and heart flip-flop here_ —he didn't have to tell me any more about his secret than I already knew. Why would he do that if he was just going to fuck me over? Then I'd have even more ammunition to do what he accused me of in the first place—tell everyone what I know about him.

By the time I get to biology, I have myself convinced, but my heart is still going a mile a minute when I enter the room.

But he's not here.

And the bell rings, and he's still not here. Did he go home sick? Did he ditch bio? Why would he do that?

 _Fuck it. I'm sure it has nothing to do with me,_ I tell myself, and I focus on photosynthesis instead.

I'm late to lunch because I hung back a few minutes, looking for Edward. _As if he would have talked to you if you did see him._ Argh, what am I doing?

"Hey."

He's so close to my ear that his breath tickles my neck, and I nearly drop my tray.

"H-hi," I stammer, wondering if this is not the cafeteria but a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind—the Twilight Zone.

"Um … would you have lunch with me? Today? I mean, like, not a lunch date or anything, just, um … you know what I mean …"

All the air seems to leave my lungs in a gust, and I look over my shoulder, wide-eyed.

He's standing there, one hand gripping the back of his neck, his cheeks blazing as if he's been caught with his hand down his pants.

"Wh-what?"

"Um … lunch. Will you sit with me?"

 _Am I awake?_ I almost say it out loud, but I stop myself just in time.

Edward wants to have lunch with me.

In. Front. Of. The. Whole. School.

"Uh … it's okay if you don't want to," he says, backing up a step.

 _What the hell is my face doing?_ I close my mouth and try to compose myself, but it falls open again.

"N-never mind," Edward mumbles, but as he turns to go, my hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. His skin is warm, but the fire that blazes up my arm and electrifies my every nerve ending has nothing to do with body heat. _Jesus._

"No, I … I want to. I'm sorry. I was just …"

 _Flabbergasted._

 _Speechless._

 _Catatonic._

"… surprised. Um … but what about—"

"Fuck 'em," he says, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes belie his nervousness. We both know this isn't socially acceptable for him, and there'll be fallout, but he's doing his best to convince me he doesn't care.

Somewhere in my head, Admiral Ackbar is yelling, "It's a trap!" but he's being smooshed into a corner by my expanding, melting heart.

I grin like a fool, and Edward grins back at me, seeming to draw strength from my smile. And I follow him out into the scene we're about to create.

I have no idea what he's going to do. Will we sit with his group? With mine? He leads me past my usual table, and that's when things start to happen. Angela notices first, perceptive as she is, and she slowly turns into a Beanie Boo—eyes wide as saucers as her mouth drops open.

The Gothlet is next, but she gives me an "I told you so" glare, her words echoing in my head. _She can't be right. She just can't be._

The rest of the table just stops and stares, and now we're _passing_ the popular table. But nothing happens there until we sit down at our own table on the other side of the stoners. Jessica elbows Resting Bitch Face, and her look of pure shock is priceless. I want to savor it, but it quickly transforms into a glare the likes of which I've never seen, first at Edward, and then at me. Ken doll looks as if he's swallowed his own dick, but Jasper's stare is more curious than anything.

And now everyone else in the room begins to notice our two tables staring, and an eerie hush steals over the room. It lasts for almost a full minute before the murmurs begin, and my cheeks sting with heat as I realizeeveryone in the room is talking about us. And I mean _everyone_.

I turn back to look at Edward, and he's as red as I am, but there's something different about his eyes. He looks almost … exhilarated. His smile doesn't fade, as mine is threatening to, and that bolsters me to give him a true, genuine smile.

"So … what shall we talk about?" he asks, his green eyes twinkling. At this moment, he looks happy and free, and more handsome than I've ever seen him.

And I realize with a start that while he's still gorgeous, in my head he's no longer Gorgeous, he's Edward.

* * *

A/N: Is he for real? Things are getting a bit more intense! Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 10 will post on Monday. Everyone stay safe today, and take a moment to remember those we lost sixteen years ago.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **Nothing weighs on us so heavily as a secret.  
** – **Jean de La Fontaine**

 **Edward**

 _Okay, today's the day. I'm gonna do it,_ I tell myself for the millionth time. The guilt has been growing and growing—Bella deserves better than for our friendship to be a secret, and if I'm going to ensure that she keeps _my_ secrets, then I need to get a move on asking her out.

But something twists in my gut every time I think about this plan. I've gotten to know Bella and she's … nice. She's more than nice; she's a really cool person—one I'd like to at least be friends with. And if I date her and then it falls apart, there isn't a chance in hell we'll remain friends, and that really sucks.

And do I really need to do this? Last night, I told Emmett what Bella said, that now that she knows my secrets, she'll keep them, but Emmett just shook his head.

"Do you really think she's going to tolerate being your closet friend for very long? If she does, she's dumber than I thought. And once you go public with this, the rumors are going to start flying, so you might as well get some action out of it and iron-clad assurance that she's not going to talk."

I don't like it, but I've known from the beginning that I'll do anything to keep my secret, including keeping my best friends in the dark and basically taking a vow of chastity. I've gone this far, so what's a little bit further? And it _would_ be nice to get my dick wet again—it's been ages since anyone but Rosey Palm and her five sisters came for a visit.

I know from yesterday that Bella's intending to be loyal to me. So now's the time. I need to make my move.

And then I go and almost fuck it up this morning by touching her in the hallway. Honestly, I have no idea what came over me. I just … reached out and tickled her, and I know Alice saw it. But I guess everyone will know by the end of the day anyway, so it doesn't matter.

I try not to think of the consequences of that, but as the morning wears on, I slowly become a nervous wreck. And Jesus Christ, I tickled Bella this morning! How the hell am I gonna face her in biology and explain that when I can't even explain it to myself?

I'm on my way to class, but somehow my frigid feet steer me to the nurse's office instead. I claim I have a headache, and she looks at me with barely disguised pity. I _hate_ coming here—it's bad enough when I have to, but today I'm just being a wuss. _Fuck._

 _I'll face Bella at lunchtime. Explain, or … something._ Although, if I sit with her at lunch, my roving fingers from this morning will probably be the least of both our worries.

My heart rate skyrockets just thinking about it, and I try to keep my breathing under control as I fish a Xanax out of my pocket. I nicked it this morning from the stash Dad keeps in the kitchen for me—this is the first time I've considered taking one without being forced in a long time. But it's not as if I could have said, "I'm going to have a panic attack at lunchtime today because I'm going to destroy my social status by eating with Bella so she'll like me and keep my secrets." _Jesus, that even sounds bad in my head._

Downing the pill with some water from the sink, I lie on the nasty little cot and try not to think about anything.

I jump when the bell rings, rubbing a hand over my eyes as the clamor of hungry students spills into the halls. _Well, that's one way to pass the time._ It's not as if Xanax hasn't knocked me out before.

I pass the nurse in the little hallway, and she gives me a perky smile.

"Feeling better?"

 _Fuck, if she only knew._ But I nod and try to force my lips upward, and it's enough for her, just like it is for everybody else. I can't imagine what my life would be like if people weren't so self-absorbed and actually paid attention.

As I approach the cafeteria, my breathing picks up and my palms begin to sweat. _I can do this. Why the hell am I so freaked out about doing this?_ But that accusation does little to console me as I round the corner and try not to stumble down the stairs.

I go through the lunch line, then circle back around through the doorway and wait like the stalker I apparently am … until Bella walks in. I want to follow her, but my feet seem to be stuck to the floor.

As I watch, she takes a chicken sandwich and Coke, and suddenly, she's nearing the end of the line and my chance is getting away from me and … somehow I lurch forward. My throat is like a desert. I swallow hard, then manage to whisper, "Hey."

She startles but doesn't turn around. "H-hi."

I put my tray down beside her so I don't drop it and grip the back of my neck, wiping the sweat away and trying to force myself to breathe.

"Um … would you have lunch with me? Today? I mean, like, not a lunch date or anything, just, um … you know what I mean …"

Her head whips around, and her eyes get really big.

"Wh-what?"

"Um … lunch. Will you sit with me?"

She's staring at me as if I just grew another head. Oh God, does she not _want_ anyone to know we're friends? I always assumed …

"Uh … it's okay if you don't want to," I stammer. "N-never mind." My cheeks are on fire, and my stomach is churning—all I want to do is hide from her _forever_. But as I turn to bolt, she grabs my arm and— _Whoa. What the hell was_ that?

It's as if she touched me with a branding iron, but now it's just little electric tingles. _I must be fucking hallucinating from that Xanax—_

"No, I … I want to. I'm sorry. I was just … surprised. Um … but what about—"

"Fuck 'em," I say, and it comes out way more confident than I feel. But I did manage to say it, and wow, look at that smile spreading across her face. She looks … beautiful when she forgets herself and smiles for real.

I pick up my tray and walk out into the main room, and passing her table and mine, I seat us at our own table away from everyone else.

And there's _silence_. I can feel the stares of the whole room, and my cheeks are burning again, but it also feels … good. For the first time in three years, I feel like I'm not hiding.

 _Oh, my God, I can breathe again._

I take a full, deep, glorious breath, and it intoxicates me. My head is spinning as I grin at her, punch drunk on how free I feel.

"So … what shall we talk about?" I ask, feeling like I'm on top of the world.

She smiles at me again, but it wavers as her eyes dart from side to side.

"Everyone is staring at us."

I glance around, but it's as if this feeling of freedom is a shield from all that, unless …

"Um … yeah. Do you not want to be here?"

"No, I—"

 _Mayday. Mayday!_

"I do."

 _Never mind._

A strange warmth spreads through my chest at her words. _Is this what friendship with a girl feels like?_ I wouldn't know—I was thirteen the last time I let myself feel anything toward the opposite sex other than lust. But whatever it is, it feels … good.

"Where were you this morning?"

"Huh?"

"Biology. You weren't there."

 _Oh fuck. "I was losing my shit in the nurse's office over what we're doing right now." Yeah, that's_ not _gonna work as a response._ "Oh, um … headache."

Her eyes widen and become … softer, somehow.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine now." She smiles and that weird heat flares in my chest again, but I really _am_ fine. Finer than I've been in a long time. "So, what did you do last night?"

With each question I ask her, Bella relaxes a little more, and the room around us fades away. It's just like the afternoons in the library—we laugh and tease each other, and when the bell rings, I'm amazed that lunch is already over.

"I guess we should go," Bella says, moving to stand.

"I … yeah," I stammer, reeling a bit from the abrupt realization that we're in the middle of the cafeteria and of the school day, not in our own little world in the library.

"Will I see you … after school?" she asks, her cheeks turning pink as she stares at her tray. Her swings between outspoken, quirky geek and shy schoolgirl are making my head spin, but something tightens in my chest when she looks down and blushes like that—as if she's so unsure.

"Yeah, I'll be there," I tell her, grinning as she raises her head and smiles wide enough to make that little dimple on her left cheek.

 _And when the hell did I ever notice that before?_ I shake my head, but I'm still smiling as she walks away from me to join Alice and Angela as they walk past us.

 _I did it. Okay._ I give myself a mental high five, but deep down, I know I'm just trying to hang on to this feeling of success. The fallout is coming, and I have no idea what's going to happen.

No one has the balls to say anything to me in the hallway, but I can hear the murmurs as I grab my books from my locker.

" _Are they dating?" "Nah, they can't be. He's just messing with her." "Why would he bother with someone like her?"_

I slam my locker door, making the three sophomore girls jump and scurry away like the little gossiping hoes they are. _Why am I so fucking angry?_

I storm down the hall, but by the time I get to study hall, my heart is pounding for a different reason. My palms are again slick with sweat—I'm about to be the center of attention, and that's never a good thing. In fact, it's a thing I usually avoid at all costs.

Mike, Tyler, and Jasper are already in their usual seats, and I take my place right in the middle. Bella is on the other side of the room, but I can't look at her. I have no idea what I'd see, and I need all the courage I can muster just to stay here.

"Dude, what the fuck? Why were you slummin' it at lunch today?" Tyler asks, his gaze hard.

I can feel my cheeks heating as my jaw tightens, but I don't respond.

"Yeah, Edward, what's up?" Austin chimes in. "Are you looking to trash bash?"

"She's _not_ trash," I force out through gritted teeth.

"Oooh, what do we have here? I think Eddie likes this one!" Tyler crows, an evil gleam in his eye.

"She _is_ a nice piece of ass." Mike speaks up for the first time, and a shiver runs down my spine, remembering his drunken hands all over Angela before Ben stepped in. She wasn't the first, and the others had no one to save them. "Maybe I'll take a turn with her too."

"She's mine!" I blurt, surprising everyone, including myself. _Oh shit._

"For now," Mike mutters, his eyes roaming over Bella in a way that makes my skin crawl.

"Have fun slum-diving, if that's your thing," Tyler says, shaking his head, but I'm still stuck on Mike's words, and my own. Now, I have to ask her out because if I don't, they'll all think I'm a pussy, or one of them will do it themselves just to fuck with me, or … what if they think she refused me?

My stomach is tight and queasy all at the same time, and I just feel … icky. My eyes are drawn to Bella, but she's turned away from me, her head resting on her fist so her hair covers her face. _Did she hear any of that?_ Fuck, I hope not. I wish I hadn't heard it.

As I turn to face forward, my eyes fall on Jasper. He was quiet through the whole exchange, and he's watching me, his brow furrowed and an almost-smile on his face. _What the hell is that about?_ I shrug it off and try to get some actual work done. It's still gonna be a long fucking day.

I finally make it to my last class of the day, and I'm just about to sigh in relief … until I remember who sits on either side of me. _Oh, motherfuck._

They're waiting for me—both of them staring me down the minute I enter the room—Lauren with pure disdain and Jessica with barely contained amusement. The nurse's office is looking _really_ good about now.

I'm barely in my seat when Lauren strikes first.

"Why the fuck would you sit with _her_?" she demands, her eyes blazing.

"Oh, come on, Laur, you know he's just playing a game with her. It'll be fun to watch, especially the ending," Jessica sneers, winking at me.

"I'm not playing a game with her. We're dating," I reply. If I'm going to have to do this, I might as well get some more mileage out of it.

The looks on their faces are priceless. Jessica nearly swallows her tongue, and Lauren looks as if I just told her I'm gay. But then, she gets scary. Her lips purse, her eyes seem to glow this eerie green color, and she raises one eyebrow. _Shit, are those flames around her ears, or am I hallucinating again?_

"Are you?" she asks, but it's a question I know better than to respond to. "That's … _nice_."

 _Oh fuck, I may be seventeen and know next to nothing about women, but I know she thinks this is anything but_ nice _._ This is dangerous. Lauren is easy to deal with when she's pissed, but when she gets like this … look out. She got like this after our little adventure in the janitor's closet, when I refused to take things further with her. I occasionally still hear a whispered rumor about my microscopic dick and missing ball.

"No way!" Jessica exclaims. "But I thought—"

"Shut it, Jess!" Lauren hisses before her mask of composure slips back into place. "Edward can date whomever he wants. I doubt she'll hold his … interest for long."

Jessica's eyes widen, but Lauren turns away before she can say anything, and so do I. But I watch Lauren for the rest of the period, and whatever is going on in that evil little mind of hers doesn't bode well for Bella, or for me, for that matter.

But all of that fades into the background as the bell rings, and I head to my locker—now I have to go meet Bella in the library and ask her out before anyone I've talked to today finds out I haven't already.

That icky feeling is back. I can't help but wonder if today hadn't gone the way it did, would I still be doing this? _It doesn't matter; you're committed now,_ I remind myself. But my steps are slow and heavy as I approach the library door.

When I push it open, Bella is sitting front and center, and she raises those chocolate brown eyes to me as a brilliant smile transforms her face. Warmth begins to spread in my chest, but that icky feeling washes all over it and turns it into nausea, and all I can manage is a weak smile in return. _Fuck._

Her brows come together slightly, but she says nothing until I'm seated beside her.

Her gaze shifts to the book open in front of her. _Shy schoolgirl time._

"Um … hi."

"Hey."

"How was your afternoon?"

If that isn't the worst question she could have asked, and yet, just like her, too. _Well, I acted all caveman in front of the guys about you, and then I told Lauren we were dating just to see if smoke would come out of her ears._

"Um, it was … different."

"I know, everyone was talking about us," she says, a nervous laugh I've never heard before escaping her.

"What were they saying?"

Her cheeks turn pink as she swallows. "Well, some people asked me if we're friends, but …"

"But?"

Now she meets my eyes, and I'm amazed she has the balls to do it. "But most of them asked if we were dating."

"What did you say?" _Jesus, I'm an ass, and a coward. She should walk away from me just for putting her through this conversation._

"I told them no," she replies, her eyes darting away.

"Did you want to tell them no?"

"What do you mean?"

Relief and anxiety flare through me as she tosses the ball into my court. Thank God she has the balls not to let me force her to ask me if we're dating— _you are such a dick, Edward—_ but now, I need to man up and get this over with.

"Um, well … would you like to be dating? Uh … me?" _Jesus Christ, you sound like you've never talked to a human before, much less a girl._ "I mean, would you go out with me if I asked you?"

Her eyes widen, but then narrow in confusion as we both turn a cartoon shade of crimson.

"Well, are you?" she asks.

"Am I what?"

"Are you asking me to go out with you?"

 _Oh fuck, what did I say?_ I try to recall my words but I have no idea what I said. _If she goes out with you, it's going to be out of pity. She has to think the seizures have addled your brains by this point._

"Oh, my God, can I just please start over?" I ask, too much of a pussy to even look at her.

"Of course," she says, biting her lip.

I take a few calming breaths, even though I know she's staring at me. I even reach down to see if my balls are still there, and amazingly enough, they seem to be. _If you don't need to grow a pair, then use the ones you have before they shrivel up and fall off!_ Holy fucking hell, I've _never_ had this much trouble talking to a girl before.

"I … what I mean is … Bella, would you like to go out with me?" I haven't said these words since I was twelve, so they feel funny on my tongue. Maybe that's why I couldn't get them out.

"You're serious," Bella says, looking at me skeptically.

"Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, because …" She pauses, her gazing piercing me.

It's as if she can see right through me, and I struggle not to squirm under her scrutiny. _Does she know why I'm doing this? Could she possibly?_ I meet her eyes steadily, knowing if I fidget even the slightest bit, the jig will be up. Just as the first bead of sweat begins to trickle down the back of my neck, she breathes out heavily, her shoulders dropping.

"Yes, I would like to go out with you."

"Really?" _Oh, my God, did I actually pull this off?_

"Yes," Bella declares, laughing. Her smile is radiant as she puts her hand over mine, and I expect to feel good, but something lurches in my chest and the icky crashes over me like a tidal wave. _Oh, God, I've made her happy. I am the biggest asshole in the whole entire world._

* * *

A/N: *shakes head at Edward* At least he feels bad about it? Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 11 will post on Monday.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **The biggest coward of a man is to awaken the love of a woman without the intention of loving her.  
― Bob Marley**

 _Oh, God, I've made her happy. I am the biggest asshole in the whole entire world._

She's beaming at me, but I feel like such a piece of shit, and I've had all I can handle for today. I know I should sit and talk with her—act all excited because I now have a girlfriend—but I just don't have it in me. I've pretended too much already today.

"Bella, I'm really sorry—"

— _more than you will ever know_ —

"—but I just feel icky today—"

— _first truth I've uttered in hours_ —

"—and I think I need to go lie down."

Her smile fades.

 _Did I just screw this up? Can she see right through me?_

"I'm sorry, Edward. Do you want me to take you home?"

 _Oh, God, she's trying to take care of me. I am the scum of the earth._

"No, that's okay. Emmett's usually done early on Wednesdays, so it shouldn't be too long. I'll just go kick back the seat in his car," I tell her, standing up.

"Okay, if you're sure."

"Yeah, I am." _Holy fuck, get me out of here._

"All right, I'll see you tomorrow then," she says, her smile making the bile rise in my throat.

I turn and bolt from the room, not stopping until I push through the front doors of the school. The cool air helps slow my rapid breathing, but my stomach is still churning threateningly. If I don't find a way to calm down soon, I'm going to throw up … or worse.

As I expected, Emmett drove his gear over to the field for practice, so I find his car parked against the fence on the side of the building. Nobody's around, so I recline the front seat and plug my iPhone into the stereo. I put the window halfway down, and 30 Seconds to Mars soothes me, helping me briefly forget this bitch of a day.

That is until Emmett shows up.

My cord lands in my lap as my music abruptly cuts off.

"I went to the library. I thought you'd still be with Bella."

I crack open one eye just long enough to see that he's turned in his seat, waiting for a response.

His warmup towel lands on my face, and I nearly gag, bolting upright as I whip it at him. "Jesus fuck, Emmett!"

"Chillax, jackass. I was just messing with you! What the hell crawled up your ass today?"

"I asked Bella out," I reply sullenly.

"Finally! And?"

"And what?"

"And I want to know the square root of pi. What did she say, dumbass?"

"She said yes."

"Great! Then why do you look like your balls are stuck in your zipper?"

I grimace at the image because that _did_ actually happen to me once, and that fucker knows it. "I'm just… Fuck, I don't know what I am. I thought it would make me happy but … it was a shitty thing to do. I've done shitty things all day, and … let's just go home," I finish, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Hey, it's not _that_ bad," Emmett says, finally using his "inside" voice.

"Think of it as a mutually beneficial relationship. She gets a boyfriend, you get your secret kept, and you both get to polish each other's knobs. It's win-win."

"I guess. I just … I don't want to hurt her, you know? She's … nice."

"Dude, you're not going to hurt her. She'll get bored with you, you'll see. How many girls did I date before Rosie?"

"I lost count."

"Exactly! Bella's young and at a new school. You may have been the first to snap her cracker, but you won't be the last."

I try not to wince as Emmett the Emasculating Elephant tramples all over my ego, but he's probably right. Maybe I won't have to hurt her. Maybe we can both have some fun with this, and then she'll walk away.

"I'm not sure why she likes you to begin with, but if you don't settle the fuck down, this isn't even gonna last a week. Every time I saw you today, you looked like you were gonna hurl. And you asked her out today? Damn, love really must be blind."

"Jesus, Emmett, don't even say that!"

"What, love?"

"Yes! There's no love here. I haven't even kissed her yet."

Emmett shakes his head at me. "Have I taught you nothing?"

"Fuck off, dickwad. I've got this." _But I really,_ really _don't._ Thankfully, dickwad stays quiet the rest of the ride home, and he opts not to out my new relationship status to Mom and Dad over dinner. I nick another Xanax as soon as I can and curl up on my bed, hoping that in the land of oblivion, there's no such thing as icky.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The next morning, I'm feeling better about everything.

 _I'm just gonna be her friend and have fun with this. I'll kiss her; I'll hold her hand—it'll be just like Lauren and all the others, except I won't have to be as careful. And I'm_ not _going to hurt her._ I give myself this pep talk all the way to school, and it seems to be working. Right up to the point that I see her, anyway.

She's at her locker, sorting through her books, but her eyes flick to mine and quickly away as soon as I round the corner. _You should stop and talk to her. You asked her out and then ran like a bitch yesterday._

But as I get closer, I can feel the icky in my chest and stomach. It's not as bad as yesterday, but it's still there. _I'm not going to hurt her. I'm not going to hurt her._

"Hey."

Even though I know she saw me, she still jumps at my greeting. "Hi. Are you feeling better today?"

"Yeah, much. I'm sorry I ran out on you like that." _But if I hadn't, I would've tossed my cookies on your Spanish book._

"It's okay. I understand."

 _Oh, God, how I wish you did._ The irony isn't lost on me that the one person who I should be able to be completely open with is the one who I'm lying to the most. _Fuck my life._

"You better hurry; the bell's going to ring."

"Yeah, I'll … see you in a few," I tell her before I continue on to my locker.

Usually all the jocks head to homeroom together, but I must be really close to the wire because only Jasper is waiting for me.

He's silent as I sort out my shit, but as we start walking, he voices the question that seems to be on everyone's mind this morning, if the whispers all around me were any indication.

"So, did you really ask Bella out?"

"Yeah, I did."

"You haven't asked a girl out since the eighth grade. Do you like her?"

 _Fuck._ The alarm bells start ringing in my head and my chest tightens. I wish Jasper would just back off and not watch me so closely.

"That _is_ usually why you ask a girl out, isn't it?" I snap.

"Not always," Jasper says quietly, and oh how I wish I were only using her for sex. That would be _so_ much better than what I'm actually doing. _You don't know the half of it, buddy._

"True, but if all I wanted was a hole and a heartbeat, Lauren would be much easier."

Jasper snickers. "Ain't that the truth. Mike wasn't too happy, though."

"Fuck Mike," I respond heatedly, and Jasper's eyebrows shoot up.

"Finally!"

"What?"

"Nothin'. Maybe a little action will make you less of a grouchy fucker."

I smirk at him and plough my shoulder into his, and as he flies toward the lockers, I realize we haven't done this in a long time.

He bounces off the doors, but he's grinning and rubbing his shoulder as he prepares to return the favor. Just as he's about to take a run at me, the bell rings.

"I owe you one," he tells me as we both sprint down the hall.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The whispers and stares continue all morning, and I watch as various girls ask Bella if she's dating me. She blushes at the question each and every time, looking down as she gives a timid "yes." She's always shy schoolgirl with people she doesn't know well, and I wonder why that is. She's got a kickass personality, and brass balls under that skirt to boot.

The shocked responses she receives get under my skin a little bit. She _is_ beautiful—what's wrong with any guy in this school noticing her, no matter who he hangs out with? I know the reality of how things work in high school, but I'm offended for her that she has to put up with this shit.

By the time we get to biology, I've had it. Bella glances at me as I sit down, but she looks … frazzled. It's a look I've never seen on her before.

"Hey."

"Hi."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's been … a long morning," she replies as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry about that. I know a lot of people have been bugging you."

Her eyes widen. "You were watching?"

"Um … yeah." My cheeks suddenly feel warm. _Why the fuck am I blushing?_ "It'll stop soon, once everybody knows."

"Yeah, I know," she says. I smile at her, but what she gives back isn't even close to what I'm used to. _I need to find a way to fix this._

I spend biology actually using my brain, but I'm focused more on the social behavior of humans than of honeybees. When the answer finally hits me, I gasp out loud, and Bella shoots me a frightened look.

"Yes, it is fascinating, isn't it, Edward? I love when my students get excited! The waggle dance of the honeybee is such a beautiful thing!"

Snickers erupt around the room, and so does my face—just like Mount Vesuvius. _Oh, my God, everyone thinks I'm jizzing my pants over dancing bees. Shoot. Me. Now._

But when I finally remove my hand from my face, Bella's smirking at me, and somehow that makes it a little better.

I pay enough attention not to embarrass myself for the rest of the period, but I keep going over what I'm going to do, and it brings a smile to my face. _Why didn't I think of this sooner?_

The bell rings and I hurry to my locker, dumping my stuff quickly so I can be waiting at Bella's when she gets there. Angela sees me first and gives Bella an elbow, and when Bella's eyes fall on me, she gives me a brilliant smile.

"Hi, Bella. Can we have lunch again today?" I ask, smiling back.

"Of course," she says, beaming at me.

Angela looks at me thoughtfully, but she smiles at Bella.

"See you later," she says, turning toward her locker.

I wait as Bella puts away her books, and we walk down the hall side by side.

"What the hell happened in biology?" she asks, smirking at me. _Enter stage left, the ballsy geek I know and … know._

"Oh, I was daydreaming and came back at the wrong moment."

"For real daydreaming, or …"

It takes me a moment to realize what she means. "No, it wasn't an … absence." I can't bring myself to say the word "seizure" in such a crowded area. "I really was just zoning out."

"Oh. Good."

We walk along in companionable silence, until we reach the entrance to the cafeteria. My hands have started to sweat a bit, but my stomach's okay, and a strange excitement begins to spread through me.

As we turn, I take her hand. Her eyes widen in shock, but her fingers entwine with mine almost of their own accord. Like they belong there. The warmth I felt last time I touched her begins to spread up my arm, but this time, it isn't a shock, it's … comfortable. But it still takes my breath away. I've never felt this way when I've touched a girl before. _Is this the way it's supposed to feel?_ It's been so long since I've really been close to anyone I wasn't related to. _I guess it's normal._

Bella's mouth is still hanging open, so I reach over with my other hand and cup her chin. "Close your mouth, Bella."

She laughs as I repeat her words, biting her lip as her eyes dance.

"Now, no one needs to ask you if we're dating," I tell her, and her smile nearly blinds me.

We walk down the steps hand in hand, and the response is similar to yesterday's, minus the shocked silence. The rumors have already been circulating, and now we've confirmed them.

I lead her right through the center of the room to the line on the other side, ensuring that everyone can see us. But suddenly, I'm not looking at them; my focus shifts to her.

She looks … relaxed. Content even. And her hand seems to fit so perfectly in mine. _Maybe …_ A wave of confusion with an extra helping of icky rolls over me, and I squeeze her hand without realizing it. Her smile widens, and the nausea I've been playing tag with all morning finally wins the game, and I have to swallow repeatedly to keep the bile down _. I'm not going to hurt her. I'm not going to hurt her._

I close my eyes and repeat the words until I can breathe again. Unfortunately, it was a little too long.

"Edward, are you okay?"

When I open my eyes, all I see is deep brown concern, and the nausea threatens again as I silently panic. I blurt out the first thing I think of.

"Um, yeah. I think I was … absent."

"Oh," she says, acknowledging the secret we share. She squeezes my hand back and says nothing more, giving me space.

Oh, Christ, I just used my condition as a cover, and she bought it hook, line, and sinker. _Edward, you are a douche canoe. No, it's worse than that—you're a fucking douche cruise ship. A doucheliner. And you don't even deserve this girl's friendship._

Fuck, I've got to get a grip on this. I've been up and down so much already today I'm giving myself whiplash and a fucking stomach ulcer. Emmett's words ring in my head. _If you don't settle the fuck down, this isn't even gonna last a week._ I hate it when that jackass is right.

By the time we sit down, I've managed to compose myself, and today it's Bella's turn to make me feel comfortable. She's still beaming as if I just hung the fucking moon, and I focus myself on enjoying her happiness instead of the reason for it. _Damn, she's pretty when she smiles._

We talk through lunch just like yesterday, and not a soul comes to bother us. _If we could just be alone like this and not have to deal with the rest of these assholes, this could actually be okay._ But that's just not the way life works, is it?

"We missed you at lunch today, lover boy." Tyler starts in the minute I sit down in study hall.

"Yeah, are you pussy whipped already?"

"No way! He hasn't even seen her pussy yet, have ya, Ed?"

"He can't have. He's still with her!"

That one has me scrambling out of my chair, but Jasper's firm grip pushes me back down.

"You really wanna take on Austin over this?"

 _Yes, I really fucking do!_ But I can't fight anyone and I know it, no matter how much I want to put my fist in that smug motherfucker's face.

I shove Jasper off and drop back into my seat, fighting to control the rage that's boiling just under my skin.

 _I have to do this. I have no choice._ But those thoughts only make me even angrier.

 _She deserves better. And you were just about to defend her._ Was I? That one confuses me a little. Yesterday, I was just defending myself, wasn't I? Or was I defending her too? This seemed like it would be so easy when Em suggested it. _What a fucking nightmare._

I plow through my afternoon, but I just can't bring myself to go to Spanish. I'm sure Lauren's been sharpening up her glare all day, and I don't think I can stand to be bitch brow bludgeoned from behind for an hour without going apeshit on her.

The nurse's office is cool and dark, and it's still that way when I wake up there sometime after the final bell. _Holy shit, does Hammond_ ever _check this room after last period?_ I'll have to remember to set my watch next time, but at least, I missed dismissal.

Warmth floods my chest when I see the top of Bella's through the library window, but it's short-lived because the look on her face is … Ouch. And as I push open the door, it's more than apparent why—Lauren and Jess are sitting two tables behind her. _How in the fucking hell did they find out?_

Bella's eyes meet mine, and they soften, but the firm line of her mouth doesn't. Those bitches haven't been quiet as she's waited for me; I'm sure of it. And the icky makes a triumphant return, but this time, it's layered with a shit-ton of guilt.

"Hi, Edward. We were just talking about you," Lauren says, and even I can feel the malice dripping from her words. _Fuck._

"Bella here seems to actually think she's dating you," she continues, Jess' giggle punctuating her statement.

"She _is_ dating me, so leave her the fuck alone," I growl. Lauren's eyes are doing that green glowy thing again, and I know why it's green and not any other color.

"Oh, come on, Edward! You can't be serious!" she purrs, and the urge to smack that smirk off her overpainted face is becoming almost unbearable.

"I mean it, Lauren. Fuck off! Go find some jock to screw, if there are any left who haven't pounded your worn out twat."

Lauren gasps as her mouth falls open, and as I glance from her to Bella, they have the exact same look on their faces.

"Come on, Bella, let's get out of here," I say as I pick up her book bag, and the smile that spreads across her face seems to wash away some of the icky this time instead of making it worse. I don't understand it, but whatever.

She follows me out of the library, but I hesitate in the lobby because I don't know where to go. My brilliant plan ended with the twat comment.

"Um … do you want to go to my house?" Bella asks, stopping beside me.

 _Chief Charlie, loaded weapon, ability to see through teenage bullshit like it's a fucking store window?_ I think I'd rather fuck Lauren, and that's saying something.

But that only leaves one other option, if I want privacy but not to be thrust into an insta-date situation. _I'm going to regret this; I just know it._

"Why don't we go to my house instead?"

Bella's eyes widen. "Really?"

"Yeah, why not?" I shrug, trying to be casual.

 _There are a thousand reasons why not, and my mother is the first nine hundred and ninety-five. Say no, say no, say no …_

"Okay, sure."

 _Fuck._

We get into her truck, and my mind is going a hundred miles an hour. _What the hell are we going to do at the house? How can I keep her away from Mom? Why the fuck—_

"Edward?"

I startle, not even realizing her hand was on my knee until she quickly removes it.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" she asks, her brown eyes gently probing mine before she looks back to the road.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" _Dumb answer. You should have just said yes!_

"Well, your knee was bouncing a mile a minute, and you look … stressed. Do you not want to go to your house?"

 _Motherfuck, are all girls this perceptive? Can't they just … think about sucking dick or shopping or something?_

"No, I—why would you think that?" _What the hell is my face giving away?_

She glances down at her jeans.

"Well … the last time I dropped you off it seemed like …"

 _Shit._ The last time she dropped me off, I was freaking out majorly, and if I could have transported her car with my mind alone, she would have been in Oregon, or maybe Botswana. The icky rolls around in my stomach, and I know lying will only make it worse.

"I … haven't brought a girl home in a long time," I offer, willing my knee to stay still.

Bella's sharp intake of breath draws my eyes.

"You're kidding."

I shake my head, afraid that if I open my mouth, the real reason might come flying out, which would likely lead Miss Perceptive to guess the reason we're dating.

"I thought that …"

"What?"

She blushes, and the flip-flop in my stomach has absolutely nothing to do with icky.

"Well, you're one of the popular guys and—"

"And you figured I get around?"

"Um …"

Her blush is so intense it's spreading down the side of her neck, and it takes almost more than I have to keep my hand from brushing back her hair so I can feel the heat of her skin.

"Some of the guys do, but … it's never been my thing." _Oh, God, how I wish it were my thing._ "I guess I just haven't—"

"Found the right girl?"

 _Figured out how to fuck them and leave them with my balls still intact._

"Yeah, I guess."

She does this shoulder thing that hides her face behind her hair, but her grin is just too wide for me not to see it … and I realize what I've said. Or rather, what I've said by agreeing with what she said. _Jesus Christ, I just told her she's the right girl. I need to pay more attention and_ not _let the conversation stray onto topics that make me daydream about fucking._

I plaster a grin on my own face, but she's not looking. Thank God, because, I know at this moment, she'd see right through me.

As we pull up the driveway, I'm still trying to calm myself.

 _Dad should still be at the hospital, and with any luck, Mom's out shopping or … something. Maybe we'll be all alone …_

That brings on a whole different type of anxiety, but I don't have time to even formulate a freak out because the garage is open and the Mercedes and Beemer are there.

Mom _and_ Dad. Are. Home.

 _Motherfucking bloody hell; karma is a bitch, and she's_ pissed _!_

 _Okay, maybe we can just walk_ by _the house and go for a walk out back, and Mom and Dad never have to—_

"Wow, I love your house! I bet all those windows make it so bright and cheerful inside."

 _Shit._ _Biggs, Wedge, we're going in. We're going in full throttle._ Blowing up the Death Star would be _infinitely_ easier than introducing Bella to my mother.

Bella parks, still gazing up at the house, while I frantically scramble to put together a plan.

Kitchen! Mom's usually never in there this early—maybe we can just sit at the table and not be noticed for a while and then go out for a walk. _Yeah, that's it! A quick look at the house, a drink and a snack, and out we go. Brilliant!_

We make it through the front door, but as I usher a wide-eyed Bella through the living room and into the kitchen, I catch Dad's eye as he's going up the stairs. His eyebrow only raises a fraction, but that's the equivalent of falling down said stairs in shock for any normal person.

I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, willing karma to give me a break just this once. Just. This. Once.

"Bella, can you go sit at the kitchen table? I'll be back in just a minute."

I dash to the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear my dad rat me out.

"Your son has a girl downstairs."

"Oh, tell Rosalie I said hi if you go back down."

"Not that son."

I can hear my mom's jaw hit the floor with an audible crack.

"What?"

"Edward. Brought a girl home."

I don't need to hear anymore. What I need to do is move. _Fast._ Bella will understand if I just grab her by the t-shirt and drag her out the back door, right? That's normal. Of course, it is.

I hightail it to the kitchen, but as I reach the table, I hear the sharp intake of breath behind me. _Holy fucking shit! Did she sprout wings? Use the hovering mother emergency chute? There is_ no way _she walked down those stairs._

Bella's eyes widen, but after a second, I realize she's looking at me, and not June Cleaver on wheels behind me. _Fuck! Breathe, Edward! And wipe that look of abject terror off your face!_

"Edward? Oh! You have a guest!"

My eyes roll so hard I think I see my brain.

"Yeah, Mom. This is Bella. She's my lab partner." _And I may have asked her out yesterday for all the wrong reasons._

"So nice to meet you, Bella," Mom says, extending her hand with the widest smile I've ever seen.

"You too, Mrs. Cullen," Bella responds, only blushing slightly.

Mom's brow furrows. "Bella … you're the one who was with Edward when—"

"Mom!"

"Yes, Mrs. Cullen. I'm the one who called you," Bella interjects, saving me from having to hear the words.

"Thank you for staying with him. He tends to—"

"I'm _right here_ , Mom," I grate out, struggling to keep my temper and my sanity.

"I know, dear," she says, patting my cheek. She's either completely oblivious to my mortification, or she just doesn't give a fuck, but either way, it's making my blood boil.

"Have things been going okay at school? I know Edward was worried—"

"Mom! Holy f—"

"Edward and I were just about to go out back. He says you have a beautiful rose garden, and I've been dying to see it."

The words die on my lips like a volcanic eruption on pause. I'm holding my breath; all the rage I want to spew at Mom is still. Right. There. But … _What the fuck did Bella just say?_

"Oh …" Mom stutters, as confused as I am.

"Come on, Edward, let's go. It was so nice to meet you, Mrs. Cullen!"

Bella waves over her shoulder as she tows me out the door, and I'm so fucking confused and bottled up that I can do nothing but be pulled along.

I hit the brakes as soon as we clear the door, exhaling in a whoosh, but the air comes right back in _way_ too fast. And out again. And in again. All my red-hot anger freezes solid into a shard of anxiety that rips down my spine—the likes of which I've never felt before. Today has just been too much, and I can't fucking get enough air.

"Edward?"

 _No! Not here. Not now!_

Bella's eyes widen, but I squeeze mine closed, trying to control the mutiny of my body.

"F-fuck, I need—"

"Go! I'll wait right here for you."

Bella's words break through the fog, and I bolt, thundering up the stairs to my room. I have just enough sanity left to close the door before I scramble over to my nightstand, my hands shaking as I pull out the little pill case where I keep emergency Xanax. Or, where I started keeping it as of the day I had my seizure at school.

I swallow the pill dry and grip the edge of the bed, trying to push all the thoughts away and just focus on my breathing. In. Out. Slow. Down. It's. Okay.

After a few minutes, breathing becomes something I can control again, and my arms feel a little heavy. The calm rolls over me in waves, and although I know it's artificial, I'll take it.

Bella saved my ass down there. The words I had for Mom were choice and would have gotten me grounded for eternity. I never told Bella Mom had a rose garden. Why did she do that?

 _Because she cares about you, you dumb ass. Why can't you get that through your head?_

The little voice comes out of nowhere, as usual, but I find myself nodding my head.

Speaking of that girl, she's still down in said rose garden, unprotected, while Mom prowls the house like the information-seeking, embarrassment-inflicting predator she is.

I stand up too quickly, swaying as I wait for my head to catch up. I always forget that Xanax and three beers feel just about the same. I'd much prefer the three beers.

The house is quiet as I tiptoe down the stairs, my heart in my throat, and the fear of seeing Mom out in the garden with Bella almost breaking through the calming effects of my playdate with Xanax.

 _Oh, thank fuck, she's alone!_ The relief is palpable, but I pause just outside the door for an entirely different reason.

Bella is walking slowly through one of the rows of rose bushes, her eyes turned down, watching her hand as it caresses the blooms with gentle fingers. She pauses, her hair falling over her face as she bends down to smell bright red perfection, and I stagger back a step as the realization hits me.

 _She's just as perfect as that rose, inside and out. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen._

Xanax has never come with beer goggles before, so I'm inclined to believe this is real. Warmth spreads through my chest, and there's no sign of icky anywhere. Just … gratitude, contentment, and a stirring sensation deep in my belly.

As she straightens, she sees me, and my cheeks heat from what I'm feeling, but it's quickly replaced by a wave of embarrassment because I left her here and ran like a bitch. Again.

"You're back," she says as she walks over to me, her expression unreadable.

I palm the back of my neck and stare at her shoes, muted anxiety doing its best to overtake me, but Xanax is stronger. So I push myself a little more.

"I'm sorry about that. I … have some issues with anxiety and it … surprises me sometimes."

I feel like such a freak, but when I risk a glance upward, Bella's looking at me like this is any normal conversation and not as if I just told her the second worst secret I have.

"I figured it was something like that," she says, cocking her head a little. "I knew you'd be back. Better now?"

"Yeah, I just needed a few minutes to …" _Fall apart? Medicate my sorry ass?_ I have no idea how to finish that statement, so I don't. Instead, I press on to the next morsel of torture.

"Did my Mom … come out here?"

"No, I haven't seen her since you went in the house. I've just been wandering around the garden," she answers, breaking my gaze to stare out over the riot of late-season color.

"Bella … I never told you my mom had a rose garden." I stare at her intently, wanting to understand this strange creature beside me.

Bella glances down now, fingering a leaf of the nearest bush.

"No … but I knew you were about to go apeshit on your mom, so I just … made it up."

I can't help the chuckle that escapes. "Apeshit, huh? Is that what I do?"

"Well, I wasn't sure, but the odds looked pretty good. I didn't want you to get in trouble, and I knew you needed an escape."

Now she looks into my eyes, and my heart gives a lurch as heat creeps up my chest and neck. Her eyes are such a mesmerizing brown—as if whatever's behind them goes on forever—deep and warm and safe.

I step closer to her, drawn as surely as if there is a rope around my waist. And before I can stop myself, I reach out and tuck a strand of soft, chestnut hair behind her ear.

And suddenly, I realize I want to kiss her. And not just because she's a girl. I want to feel her lips against mine and listen to her breath quicken. I want to hear her moan as I touch her and feel her hands on my bare skin.

 _Holy fuck, I …_

Even my inner voice doesn't know what to make of this one. The silence inside and out is so complete, it's deafening. And all I can do is _feel_. My hand begins to tremble because this scares the hell out of me, and I should stop, but nothing in my life has ever felt this _right_ before.

I move just a hair closer, my throat desert-dry but my lips aching for the sweet pressure that's only inches away. I drop my chin, and Bella closes her eyes in response, and … _this is really happening._

Our lips meet, and it's so soft and so gentle, but my body explodes in sensation.

I'm hardening.

My head is spinning.

My chest is expanding with emotions I can barely even contain, let alone define, and _oh, my God, it's never felt like this_.

Our lips seem to move as one, push and pull, taste and tease, and I swear I've died and gone to heaven until her tongue darts out and … _motherfucker_.

My tongue is in her mouth and hers is in mine and _Jesus Christ, I can't even …_

I jerk as her hands thread between my chest and arms, my skin warming and sizzling as she envelops me in heat and _how do I get closer?_

My own arms wrap around her, pulling and owning and _I never wanna stop_ ...

So I lower my arms, drawing her as close as I can and _Jesus motherfucking Christ—_ "Ohhhh …"

My.

Dick.

 _Oh, my God._

Her.

Nipples.

 _Mmmpphhhawwfffuck. Did I just come in my pants?_

I break away, panting, trying with all my might to keep myself from jizzing and roaring and whimpering like a little girl.

And Bella is just staring at me, in the same state of … what the fuck.

 _I can't, I'm … Jesus … no, that's not right …_ My inner voice is stumbling, but at least, it's not speaking in tongues anymore, but I _feel_ like I could walk on water and climb every mountain and forge every stream and when did this become _The Sound of Music_ , and _Jesus Christ, what's happening to me?_

* * *

A/N: Aren't you glad you were never a teenage boy? The ups and downs are enough to make you seasick! But oh … that kiss! Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 12 will post on Monday.

Skin Deep was featured on Random Rita's Friday Feature Fics over on Rob Attack this past Friday. Thank you, Rita, and welcome, new readers!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **Falling in love is like jumping off a really tall building; your head tells you, 'Idiot, you're gonna die' but your heart tells you 'Don't worry, pretty girl, you can fly.'  
—Unknown**

 **Bella**

Edward just … stares at me, and all of a sudden, the biggest smile I've ever seen spreads across his face and I'm flying. That was … I don't even know what that was—the only thing I know is if we don't do it again _right now_ I think I might die.

I move forward, and Edward more than meets me halfway—lips and hands and _oh good Lord_ his _tongue_ —and everything just feels so warm and fizzy and dizzy … Now I know what it feels like to be a dropped soda bottle with the fizz surging and building to overflow. That's what I'm about to do—overflow. I don't know where or how, but I can just _feel_ it. And I don't ever want this feeling to stop.

His tongue reaches deeper, thrusting and claiming and every time he goes deep something flips in my stomach and floods me with a wave of zinging heat.

His arms thread through mine this time, and I gasp into his mouth as my hardened nipples press into the firm planes of his chest. _Jesus Christ, I didn't know just kissing a guy could make them_ do _that!_

The kissing is still incredible and my thoughts are disjointed but the movement of his hands slowly down my back commands my attention. His fingers stretch and flex, seeking … _Oh my God, what? I'll give him_ anything.

And then he's there—hands firmly cradling my ass and pulling me closer until …

"Mmmpph," Edward whimpers into my mouth.

 _Is that his … holy shit!_ Something warm and hard and— _wow!_ —long is pressing against my thigh—I think it's _the_ thing.

"Oommpphh," Edward groans as the thing slides down and then up again.

Yup, definitely the thing—his cock— _holy cock, batman_! _Is it really that big?_ I didn't know they could get that big!

The thought of _that_ —anybody's that—someday trying to fit inside me is almost enough to make me stop kissing him, but the second my focus turns back to him, the pit of my stomach … erm, lower … quivers and melts.

He's _so_ into this. I can feel his heart thundering against my chest, and he whimpers and moans every time his _holy cock!_ slides against my leg.

 _Why is he—_

"Mmmnnnhh!"

I think lightning just struck.

Between.

My.

Legs.

 _Ohmigodohmigodohmigod. The holy cock! and my … he …_

And it starts to pulse. It's like my heart has gone south and is beating in that little nub— _do I have a lady boner_? Is this what it feels like?

I don't care what it is; I want _more_!

Now _my_ hands are somehow on _his_ ass, and he groans loudly, coming up for air for just a second before diving right back in, pulling me closer—if that's even possible.

We're both moving now, my hands kneading— _needing?—_ his ass as we rub against one another.

 _Holy hell, are those sounds coming from me?_

And suddenly, something starts to build. The pulsing in my clit grows stronger, and I feel hot and _so_ ready to overflow, and …

 _What the motherfuck?_

I tense up as my underwear suddenly feels wet— _really_ wet—and it's like I've woken up and realized where we are and what we're doing.

I break the kiss and the friction, and my body is positively _screaming_ at me to _get back over there and_ _climb that boy like a tree until something wonderful happens_ , but …

"We should … stop," I stutter out, hardly able to believe the words are coming out of my mouth as my mind tries to convince every other part of me that we shouldn't do this. My mind plays to win, and The Gothlet's words flood my brain, reminding me that I need to be careful, and I shouldn't trust him so quickly … but, God, that felt so _good_ and so _right_ and …

Edward is staring at me. He's panting like he's just run a marathon as his hand riffles through hair damp from exertion. _Our_ exertion.

I realize then that I'm also trying to catch my breath, and my stomach feels like a bed of hot coals—stoked and glowing and just _waiting_ for the finish.

"Jesus," he mumbles, looking at the ground as color rises in his cheeks. I'd _kill_ —several people, in fact—to know what he's thinking right now. What he's really thinking about any of this, and why he's doing it.

I _want_ to believe him, but it just makes no sense that a guy like him would date a girl like me. But I'm still doing this. I'm gonna date him, I'm gonna see where this goes, but we're _not_ gonna go all the way. He can't hurt me that much if we don't do _that_ , can he?

"I … shit. Bella, can I … I'll be back in just a minute," he stammers awkwardly, his face screwing up almost like he's in pain as he turns and walks stiffly toward the house.

I barely have time to wonder about his disappearance before he's back again, smiling and blushing and looking more relaxed than he's been all day.

His smile sends a flood of warmth through me, but it's okay because I feel like I'm in control again. Of what, I don't know, but at least, I'm not freaking out anymore.

He grabs my hand and we walk, neither of us saying anything about what just happened, but somehow, that's okay too. He swings our hands between us, and when I look over, he's grinning at me, but … it's different. He looks happy in a way I've never seen him before. He stares at me with a look of … wonder? And it makes no sense, but my belly does that flip-flop thing, and I grin back.

The wind picks up and I shiver. It's October and we've been outside for God knows how long, but I never noticed the cold until now. And it's getting dark. Charlie will be home soon, and not being there is _not_ something I want to have to explain today. _I kissed a boy and humped his leg and lost my mind. That's why there's no dinner on the table._ Erm … no.

"Edward, I think I need to go home," I say, staring down at our hands. "My dad will be home soon, and …"

Edward visibly flinches at the word "dad," and I can't help but smirk. Yup, Charlie would have at least loaded the gun today.

"Don't worry, he doesn't have laser vision, and he can't read my mind."

Edward chuckles, but it seems half-hearted. _Is he really afraid of Charlie?_

"Okay, let's go get your stuff, and I'll walk you to your truck," he says, dropping my hand as we approach the house.

It stings for a moment, but then I remember his mother's overblown excitement over meeting me. Edward probably has quite an interesting evening ahead of him while I just get to go home and make pasta. _Fuck, I hope his mom wasn't watching out the upstairs windows._

We breeze through the house, encountering no one, and before I know it, we're standing by the driver's side of my truck.

Edward looks … reluctant, but it's different than before. Before our kiss, he looked unsure, but now he looks … shy, and oh shit, is it adorable.

"Will you be okay? Your mom—"

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll … handle it," he tells me, shuffling his feet. Suddenly, he's holding a red rose out to me, and my insides melt into a puddle of ooey gooey girlishness.

"I … well … I thought you might like …"

Oh, God, could he _be_ more adorable? It takes nearly everything I have not to pounce on him and resume scaling Mount Edward right where we left off.

"I love it! I mean, yes, I do. Thank you," I tell him, trying to keep the quaver out of my voice.

He grabs my hand, eyes focused on my fingers as he rubs them between his. He takes a deep breath, then those riveting green eyes pierce mine.

"Can I … kiss you again? Not like before, just …"

And I'm moving forward before he can finish the thought, one hand grasping his shoulder as our lips meet and mold together as if we've been doing this forever. The kiss isn't chaste, but he's not deep throating me either, and I linger, ghosting soft kisses on his lips after he's withdrawn his tongue.

"I'm glad you came over," he says, eyes still closed and a smile on his face.

"Me too."

And I float all the way home.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The next morning, I'm still on cloud nine … until I get to homeroom anyway.

My first scan of the room is for Edward, and just the thought of what he might be wearing and that smile he gave me yesterday can't help but bring a grin to my face … until my eyes land on The Gothlet.

The Eyes of Sauron—and yes, two is _definitely_ scarier than one—stop me in my tracks just before my desk.

"What have you _done_?" she asks, her fiery gaze unwavering.

"What do you mean? What makes you think I've done anything?" I ramble, trying not to squirm.

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're wearing the 'Ben is my love-muffin' face."

This earns her a glare from Angela, but her focus is singular, and she wants an answer.

"I am not! I—"

"Bella, don't even _try_ ," The Gothlet warns, and I know she's got me. She's scary as fuck when she gets this way.

"Well … I may have gone to his house after school and … there was kissing and roses and—"

"You _kissed_ him?" The Gothlet exclaims, her voice rising to a very un-Sauron-like squeak and attracting the attention of half the room.

My face explodes in heat, but luckily, it's the geeky/druggy half who hears her, and they don't give a shit. None of the popular crowd are here yet.

"Aww, that's so sweet!" Angela coos, glancing over at her own love muffin. Ever since Edward apologized to her and he hasn't done anything else to us, Ang has been very accepting of what I'm doing. It's almost as if she can see there's more to him than meets the eye.

Unlike The Gothlet, who currently looks like she's going to rip my face off.

The words swirl in my head like they always do, but this time, somehow they come flying out before I even know what's happening.

"Yes, I kissed him. And it was fuck-awesome and I liked it. I know what I'm doing, Alice. You don't know the whole story, and I can't tell you, but I have my reasons for trusting him. Just … back the hell off, okay? I'm not going to jump into bed with him just because he gave me a rose and we sucked face." _Although, for a little while there, I seriously consider it._

Luckily, that last part remains in my head, but I'm still stunned that I've talked back to the Dark Lord. I wasn't able to get the words out when she berated me after I agreed to go out with him—what the hell was the difference today?

She looks at me appraisingly, and although she's shaking her head, there's a measure of respect there.

"Fuck, Bella, I just hate to see girls get worked over by those assholes. They're all the same, you know? They get in your pants, and then they have no use for you anymore, and then you have to try to pick up the pieces and—"

The Gothlet stops suddenly, and I get the distinct impression she knows all this from experience. She came here a year before I did from what Angela told me. Hmm.

"Just … be careful, okay? I don't wanna have to cut him."

She opens the paperback on her desk, and Angela and I are left to pick our jaws up from the floor.

 _I just knew that crazy bitch had a knife. Note to self: get a stab vest, or never, ever, piss off The Gothlet. If she ever reaches for her back pocket, you run like fuck._

Just then, the jocks waltz in followed by the bitch brigade, with Edward and Jasper bringing up the rear.

Resting Bitch Face and Jessica give me the fakest smiles I've ever seen, but my eyes are only for Edward. His faded gray t-shirt and jeans are ridiculously hot, and I can't help the blush and smirk that take over my face when I think about what's in those jeans.

He gives me that same smile from yesterday, and my face feels like it might split. He sits down without a word, though, and I'm really hoping it's because the bell is about to ring and not because of who he's surrounded by.

We've only been seeing each other for a few days, so I don't know exactly where I stand and how he's planning to handle Ken doll and the bitch brigade. I get the feeling he doesn't really know either.

"Hey, Edward, are you planning to study in the library today?" Jessica pipes up loud enough for me and the rest of the room to hear as she elbows Resting Bitch Face.

RBF still looks a little cowed from yesterday's twat takedown, but she smirks into her notebook.

Ken doll raises his eyebrows, and now I know the purpose of Jessica's comment—to get the guys to start in on Edward.

"You _study_ in the _library_ after _school_?"

"No! Jess saw me _near_ there yesterday, and she should mind her own fucking business," Edward responds, glaring at Jess so hard I can feel it from two seats behind her.

"No, I saw him _in_ there, meeting up with Bella," Jess fires back, clearly unafraid of Edward's ire.

Ken doll laughs, shaking his head.

"You're fucking kidding me."

Edward's shoulders hunch, and it's obvious, at least to me, how much he hates to be the center of this kind of attention. _Damn that bitch to hell for doing this to him._

"How many times have you met her there, Eddie? Did you get under that skanky skirt?"

Austin's words hurt, but it's a hurt I'm used to. This is just the way the jocks refer to any girl whose pants they're not interested in getting in.

But Edward's not used to them. His jaw is flexing and his face has turned a shade of puce I've never seen.

And I suddenly feel cold all over as the stark realization hits me. _It can't be good for him to get this upset. He got this angry with_ me, _and then he had a seizure at school._

Mercifully, the bell rings and the conversation is forced to end, but I watch Edward all through homeroom, and it takes most of the period until his face clears of color and his shoulders drop below his ears.

Edward stays away from me all morning, and I leave him alone too, not wanting to cause him any more anxiety or to give those assholes anything else to razz him about.

When he doesn't show for biology, I start getting concerned and ask for a hall pass, claiming to have left my notebook in my truck. I hightail it straight to the nurse's office, and my heart twists painfully when I find him lying on one of the cots, an arm thrown over his eyes.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath not quite coming in pants, but it's definitely accelerated. Some instinct tells me to stay where I am, so I just watch him until his breathing slows.

As I'm just about to move forward, he drops his arm, eyes widening as they fall on me. He jerks upward into a sitting position, but his hand flies to his head just as quickly.

"Fuck," he mutters, eyes closed, one hand palming his face while the other grips the side of the cot.

I'm across the room in a heartbeat, coaxing him to lie back with gentle hands on his shoulders.

He gives in with a huff, lying with his eyes closed, but there's so much tension in the tight line of his lips.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. You didn't come to biology, and I … I wanted to make sure you were okay."

The set of his lips softens, and when he opens his eyes, his gaze is calm but cautious.

"I'm better now," he answers simply, threading his fingers through mine.

"When you sat up just now—"

Edward sighs, but his eyes remain on mine, his grip tightening a little on my hand.

"I took a Xanax a little while ago, and they make me dizzy if I move too quickly."

"Oh," I say, because what else is there to say?

"They kind of make you feel like you've had a few beers, but they help with … anxiety," he explains, forcing that last word out with obvious effort.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out, and when his eyebrows crease, I foolishly go on. "About this morning."

He scowls, but there's no other sign of tension from him. "Don't worry about them. I'll handle it."

"It seems like you have a lot you need to handle right now," I observe, and I'm immediately sorry when he closes his eyes again.

"Yeah," he answers, and the sadness in his tone has me leaning over him before I even realize what I'm doing.

He jumps when I make contact, and our lips press together tightly, but he relaxes into the kiss almost immediately, his hand palming the back of my head as he tilts his chin.

The kiss is just like yesterday, except today, I'm not shocked when the heat explodes in the pit of my stomach and that fluttering, heady sensation takes over my chest.

We keep going until he groans into my mouth, and we both pull back, seeming to know that this is where we should stop.

Now, he's flushed and his eyes are bright, which is so much better than the way I found him, but his words bring me down a little.

"Bella, I think I'm going to go home. This week has been—"

"I know," I blurt out, trying to save him from the awkwardness of an explanation.

"But it's been good too," he hurries on. "Awesome, in fact. But I'm just—"

"Worn out?"

"Yeah, kinda," he says, chuckling and shaking his head.

"And I wanna be calm and rested for our date tomorrow," he adds, dropping his chin and glancing up at me shyly.

"Our—"

"Only if you want to."

"I want to," I assure him with a smile. "What did you have in mind?"

He grins and exhales in a whoosh, and my smile grows wider as his nerves recede.

"Well, it's supposed to be warm and sunny. Wanna go to the beach?"

My eyebrows go up. _Holy fuck, a bathing suit? It's October and I'm not ready and_ —

"Not to swim. Let's just … go walk and take some snacks or something."

"Sure, that's sounds … great."

"Okay, why don't you come over around eleven?" he asks as he sits up more slowly, swaying only slightly as he turns to put his feet on the floor.

"All right, I'll see you then, and I'll bring the snacks," I tell him, leaning down and grasping his chin as I give him a chaste kiss.

 _I have a date!_

* * *

A/N: Is it young love? We better hope so, or The Gothlet is gonna cut someone! Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 13 will post on Monday.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **The greatest prison people live in is the fear of what other people think.  
\- David Icke**

I roll slowly down the long drive, and finally, the huge white house appears through the trees. As I pull up, I can see that Edward and Emmett are out in front of the detached garage, washing Emmett's car, and Edward's mom is on the front porch reading a book. The boys have music blaring out of the garage so loudly that Edward doesn't even hear the roar of my truck, so I decide to go join Esme on the porch and let them finish with the car.

As I approach, she looks up from her book, a warm and welcoming smile spreading across her face. "Hi, Bella! It's so good to see you!"

I'm a little leery after the way Edward reacted to her yesterday, but she certainly has always been nice enough to me.

"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Cullen!" I respond brightly.

"Oh, please, dear, my name is Esme."

I grin. "Okay, Esme."

"So what are you and Edward going to do today?"

I glance up at the near-cloudless sky, amazed again at how the weather here can turn on a dime. Yesterday, it was gray and in the fifties, while today is sunny and low seventies.

"We're going to the beach. I packed us some snacks and a blanket. I think we're just gonna go soak up some sun."

"What a great idea! I don't think Edward's been down there in a few months," she says, and I wish I could hear what she _doesn't_ say.

We sit in silence for a few moments, just watching Edward and Emmett as they work their way toward the back of the car in what I realize is a practiced routine.

Emmett drops his sponge, ruffling Edward's chaotic mass of hair before hauling the bucket over to the hose for a refill.

"Were they always like this? I mean, didn't they ever … fight?" I ask, realizing a moment later that I said this out loud and not just in my head.

Esme laughs—a sweet, soft sound that echoes the fondness written all over her face as she watches them.

"Oh my goodness, yes! When they were younger, all they did was beat on each other. We were concerned they'd really hurt each other as they got older…" She pauses, a faraway look in her eye. After a moment she meets my gaze. "Things … changed after Edward was diagnosed. Emmett changed. Not immediately, but we knew that was the reason."

"When did that happen? His diagnosis, I mean."

She eyes me shrewdly. "Edward didn't tell you?"

I know I probably shouldn't be doing this. Edward went ballistic Thursday when Esme skirted the topic of his epilepsy, but I'm just _so_ curious, and if I can find things out without making him uncomfortable, that's good, right? _Right?_

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "He's told me some things, but he doesn't seem to like talking about it."

"No, you're right, he doesn't. But I don't think he'd mind that you know since you're in on the secret anyway," she says, winking at me.

"It all began in the spring of his eighth grade year. He started having myoclonic seizures—did he tell you about those?"

"Ye-e-s-s-s?" I answer, drawing the word out as I struggle to remember the few details he's provided. Thankfully, Esme is more than happy to help.

"Well, those are just involuntary jerks of the muscles—kind of like when you jerk awake if you've fallen asleep in class?"

I smile and nod—that's right, now I remember!

"Anyway," she continues, "he started having those, and he didn't tell anyone for a few months, but then I saw him have one, and I knew it wasn't normal. I told Carlisle right away, and we took him to a neurologist. By then, it was the middle of the summer before his freshman year. They started running tests on him to figure out what was wrong, and while we were waiting for the results, he had his first tonic-clonic seizure."

I cock my head to the side. "Those are the big ones?"

"Yes," Esme affirms, "like the one you witnessed a few weeks ago. It was the scariest thing I'd ever seen. Luckily, Carlisle was there, and he knew what to do, but it didn't take long after that for Edward to be diagnosed."

"Okay, so those are the big ones, and the myoclonics are the little ones …" I say, rapidly aligning Esme's story to what Edward's already told me.

Esme furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

"Edward did tell me about the two different kinds of seizures. He just didn't give the big ones a name."

"Oh, I see," she says, nodding. "Well, after the diagnosis, things changed between the boys. After we explained to the both of them what could happen if Edward were to hit his head—"

Like a bolt of lightning, the look of panic on Edward's face from the night of the football game flashes through my head. _He can't fight. If he takes a punch, it'll cause a seizure._

"… Emmett never laid a hand on Edward again, but they still weren't friends.

"It was a really hard time for Edward—he was starting his freshman year, the doctors were having him trial lots of different drugs to control the seizures, and he was learning about his … limitations. The hardest of all was the fact that he couldn't play basketball anymore," she says, shaking her head.

"He had been a star all the way through middle school. He has an incredible shot. He had one game in eighth grade where he scored forty points. The coaches at Forks High had already scouted him, and it was very likely he would have made the varsity team his freshman year. But there was no way he could play after we knew he had epilepsy. The risk of injury was just too great.

"So, he had to give it up. He didn't want anyone to know anything was wrong with him, as you know, so he just told everyone he didn't want to play anymore. We tried to protect him and tell everyone it was his decision and we supported it, but the coaches and players still gave him a really hard time. And Edward just … took it. Even though it was killing him not to be trying out for the team, he never said anything back when the guys laid into him for it. That was what drove Emmett over the edge. From that point onward, Emmett stood up for Edward whenever anyone said anything to him, and the two of them became friends."

I'm on overload—a little embarrassed for Edward by all the information Esme's given me, but mostly reeling from the knowledge of all he's gone through. _Holy shit! He was_ that _good at basketball, and he had to just … give it up? And everyone gave him a raft of shit over it?_

As if on cue, the sound of laughter and a struggle ring out from the driveway, and we both look over to see Edward soaping Emmett with his sponge while Emmett's soaking him with the hose. I can't help but laugh at the two of them—they're incredibly cute together. Esme's laughing as well, and she yells over to them, "Get more on the car than yourselves, boys!"

That's when Edward notices me and immediately drops his sponge and jogs over. He's wearing navy basketball shorts and a white t-shirt, which is now plastered to his chest because it's soaking wet. The sodden cotton outlines his pecs and abs in sharp relief, and my breath catches as I stare at his sculpted torso. I had no idea that's what was under there! I suspected he worked out, but _damn_. His hair is in its usual state of disarray, but he runs a wet hand through it as he approaches, slicking it back and out of his eyes.

"Hi, Bella, when did you get here?" he asks as he leans against the edge of the porch.

"Oh, a little while ago," I say, winking at him to try to calm his nerves.

"Uh oh, have you two been talking?" Edward asks teasingly, but not quite.

"Oh, Bella and I have just been getting to know each other," Esme interjects, smooth as silk.

Edward frowns, but he lets the subject drop. "Why don't I go change, and then we can head out?"

"Sure," I reply, thinking I'd really rather have him just stay in that wet t-shirt … I shake my head to clear it and smile at him.

Once Edward leaves, the conversation turns to me, and Esme asks all the usual "getting to know your son's new girlfriend" questions. She's quite nice about the whole affair—much nicer than I'm sure Charlie is gonna be whenever I decide to bring Edward home—but that's just a daughters versus sons thing, isn't it? Although, most dads probably don't have firearms within arm's reach during that discussion—fuck, I'll have to remember to tell Edward to bring his Xanax along. Maybe we can slip one to Charlie, too.

Edward returns in fresh basketball shorts and a Nike t-shirt, and my heart aches a little for him due to my newfound knowledge. Knowing how dangerous that is, I shove it to the back of my mind for analysis later and stand, eager to avoid a repeat of the pre-rose garden incident.

The tension between mother and son seems low today, though, and Esme just offers us a, "have fun, you two," as Edward tows me off the porch.

He's happy. His hair is freshly wet and the longer pieces flop into his eyes, and his cheeks are grinning and rosy. So different from the weighed-down boy I saw in the nurse's office yesterday. He must have gotten the rest he needed.

He walks me to the driver's side of my truck, but before I can open the door, he turns me against it, hands cupping my cheeks as his lips and tongue bid me hello. I lean into the kiss, flames dancing in my belly as excitement thunders in my chest. My hands grip his waist, beckoning to _holy cock!_ to come and nest on my thigh, and Edward's more than ready to oblige … until a wolf whistle sounds from near the garage.

"Goddammit," Edward mutters, breaking our kiss and resting his forehead against mine. "Remind me to put some Icy Hot in that fucker's jock for practice on Monday."

I crack up, holding onto his shoulders as I shake with laughter, and Edward's frown melts away.

"You two are major league, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he says, opening the door for me, and he's still chuckling when he gets into the truck.

It's a gorgeous day, so we wind our way along La Push Road with the windows down. Edward sits with his elbow on the door, copper hair glinting in the sunlight as it blows into his eyes, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

 _I_ notice because he looks like a damn centerfold out of _Rolling Stone_ —all he needs is a cigarette dangling from his mouth and he'd give James Dean a run for his money.

There are a million things I want to ask him, but I think at least half of them will fuck with the mellow mood he's got going, so I shelve those and go simpler.

"So, what do you normally do on weekends?"

He glances my way, raising his hand to let the air rush through his fingers. "Not much, I guess. Find ways to annoy Emmett, shoot hoops with Jazz, sleep."

"Sleep?" I ask, trying to contain my smirk. Here I thought the popular crowd did cool things.

"Yeah, you know. Sleep in?"

" _That's_ on your list of weekend hobbies?"

"Fuck, I don't know," Edward says, throwing his hands in the air. "All right, then. What do _you_ do on the weekend?"

 _Shit._ Mental note, Bella: don't ask questions you're not ready to answer yourself.

"Umm … homework, I read, I—"

Edward's narrowed eyes and smirk tell me all I need to know.

"Okay, sometimes I go shopping or to the movies with Alice and Angela—"

His withering look hasn't changed in the slightest.

"Okay, I'm boring, but so are you! Sleeping? Annoying your brother?"

"Well …" Edward looks down and away—in the way I'm quickly realizing is his tell for complete honesty or admitting something uncomfortable.

"… I also play the piano."

"You're kidding!" I gasp. I did notice the baby grand last week when Edward whisked me toward the kitchen, but I never thought …

"Yeah, it's … I started just a few years ago," he tells me, gripping the back of his neck with his hand. "It's … kind of a left brain and right brain thing, you know? It's supposed to help with—"

"Fewer seizures?"

"Something like that."

"Will you … play for me sometime?"

"What? No, I—" He looks slightly horrified, but I just gaze at him patiently, hoping he'll calm down and reconsider.

"Well … maybe." His smile mirrors mine as he ducks his head. _He really is a bit of a pushover once you get up under that façade._

"I'm going to hold you to that," I tell him, but I know it's time to let this one go. "So, what else do you do?

"Not much. You're gonna find out pretty quickly there's not much to do in this town," Edward says, sighing.

And it's the kind of sigh that makes me think he's … lonely. Isolated. Maybe we both are.

"Well, maybe we can find stuff to do … together?" I offer, grinning hopefully.

Edward snorts and a blush roars up from his neck to his ears, and I know his mind has gone exactly where mine is. I want more of those kisses and a few other things too.

We ride in silence for a while, but it's the comfortable kind. A few minutes after my … suggestion, Edward tries to discreetly adjust himself, and I have to bite my lip and turn my head to keep from bursting out laughing. _Boys. Hormones plus hair-trigger equals instant hard-on. How the hell do they live like that? Their hands must get awfully tired._

I nearly giggle, but Edward is already red and staring out the window, so I stifle it and stealth-ogle the bulge in his pants until it begins to subside.

 _I wonder what he thought about to make_ that _happen?_ Naked Jesus streaks through my mind, and I have to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. _Okay, maybe we're not_ that _different_.

I'm about to ask which beach I should park at when I notice Edward move quickly out of the corner of my eye. He immediately slumps in his seat, blowing out a frustrated breath as he closes his eyes and bows his head. He jerks his head to the side, but it's so rapid that I don't think it's quite under his control.

"Fuck," he swears, as he slides a little closer to me on the bench seat of the truck.

"What's wrong?"

He doesn't answer right away, but this time, his arm flashes out and almost hits the dashboard.

"Edward," I say, both a demand and a plea. This is getting weird.

He speaks very quietly. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I'm going to have to break our date for today and ask you to take me back home." The sorrow and frustration in his voice cause a lump to form in my throat. I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but it's got to be related to his condition.

"What is it?"

He sighs angrily as his left shoulder jerks forward. "I'm having myoclonic seizures."

My eyes go wide as panic tears down my spine, and I draw in a rapid breath. _What do I do? Is he going to convulse like he did at school?_ _Oh fuck, I don't want to be here._

I glance over at him, and there's pain and anger and every negative emotion I can think of written all over his face.

 _Goddammit! I just did what he's afraid everyone else will do! Son of a bitch! He thinks I'm just like everyone else!_ And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if I really am like everyone else. At least a little.

"It's okay; these are the 'little' ones I told you about. Don't be afraid," he says, his tone soft and comforting, as if he's talking to a small child or a frightened animal. The wall he's put up feels like a physical barrier between us, and I feel like a complete and total piece of shit.

"I do need to go back home, though. Can you turn around?"

"Sure," I reply automatically, mentally shaking myself and doing as he asks.

"Bella, it's really okay. This happens all the time." Despite the pain I've caused him, I can tell he wants to reach out and touch me to reassure me, but he keeps his hands resting lightly on his knees. His head jerks sharply to the side.

"Does it … hurt?" I ask, really, really hoping the answer is no.

"No … well, unless my arm hits something when it jerks, which is a distinct possibility in a small space like your truck. That's why I moved away from the door before."

I ponder this for a moment. "This means you're going to have a big seizure today, doesn't it?" The details of what he and Esme have told me are coming back now that I'm a little calmer.

"Yeah," he says heavily. "I'm sorry about this, Bella. I really am."

"Edward, you can't control it. Don't be sorry. I'm sorry you're going to have a bad day."

And I really _am_ sorry, and not just because he has to break our date. For the first time, I understand just how little control he has—how much he's at the mercy of his body and has to adapt to whatever situation it throws at him.

"I'll be all right," he says resignedly. I can sense his disappointment, but there's something else in the way he says it. An … uncertainty. Maybe even a little fear.

"Then … why are you afraid?"

"How the hell do you do that?" he demands, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Do what?"

"Read me like that. Sometimes I think you would have figured out my secret even if you hadn't seen anything."

"Does it bother you?"

"Yes," he responds quickly, "… and no. With a secret to keep, it always makes me nervous when someone can guess things about me. But, somehow I don't really mind it from you."

Warmth spreads through my chest as he speaks—I must be doing something right because the wall is coming down a little bit—but I still want to know why he's afraid.

"You haven't answered my question," I press gently.

He raises his eyebrows as he looks at me, and his lip quickly curls into a frown. He's too upset to put up a fight.

"This usually only ever happens early in the morning. I'm … concerned about this happening so late in the day."

"You're worried it could happen at school."

"Yeah," he replies, running a hand through his hair. He sits still for a moment, and it occurs to me that he hasn't jerked in a few minutes. Maybe the little seizures are over. "I don't know what's going on with me. Everything has been so predictable for such a long time now. Why is it changing? It's stressing me out, and that leads to even more problems."

I reach over tentatively and put my hand on his knee. "I'm sorry, Edward. I wish there was something I could do to help." I can't take back my earlier reaction, but I _can_ show him that now I'm afraid _for_ him and not _of_ him.

I can feel his eyes on me, and I risk a glance over to find him staring at me with a strange expression on his face. "You already have," he whispers.

There's still distance in the silence between us, but it doesn't feel like a wall anymore—just the divide between what he's experiencing, and what I can only guess at.

I look over at Edward, and he's staring out the window. He's perfectly still, except his knee bounces a rapid rhythm. His hands are clenched in his lap. There's something else.

"What has you so nervous right now?"

His eyes flash to mine, and I see fear there, and anger. "You know, this is why I don't have girlfriends," he snaps.

Ouch. I blink rapidly, stung. I'm silent for a moment, listening to the sound of his rapid breathing as the hurt settles in. "I'm sorry, I—"

"No, I'm sorry," he interrupts me, heaving a frustrated sigh. "I'm just … not used to talking about this kind of stuff. I'm … worried about the lead-time on this seizure. Normally, it happens an hour or two after the little ones, but it's so late in the day already."

"You think it's going to be soon."

"Yeah," he admits, running a hand through his hair.

I unconsciously depress the gas pedal a little harder and curse myself for my instinctual "afraid _of_ him" reaction, but Edward doesn't seem to notice. Maybe if I can keep him distracted, it'll calm both of us.

"How do you know when it's going to happen? I mean, when I walked in on you that day, you obviously knew something was about to happen, even though you didn't have the little seizures first …"

"Yes, I knew," he answers. "I get a warning a minute or two before it happens."

I wait expectantly, but no more comes. I glance over at him, and he's staring off into space. "Edward?"

He shakes his head. "The warning is … fear. All of a sudden, I feel this completely irrational terror that just about paralyzes me. Then I know I've only got a minute or two."

"Oh," I say softly. I remember the look on his face when I walked in that day, and now I understand. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with what was about to happen to him. The more I learn about what he has to go through, the more I realize how much more there is to him than I knew, and how very strong he is. To have to deal with this on top of school and homework and everything else in his life, and to try to keep it a secret from everyone above all ... "Wow," I breathe.

"What?" he asks, not unkindly this time.

"I just don't know how you do it." I try to come up with more of an explanation for what I mean, but he seems to understand from what I've already said.

"Well, I don't really have a choice, do I?" he says bitterly, the edge creeping back into his voice.

"You don't have a choice in having to handle it, but you _do_ have a choice in _how_ you handle it, and I think you handle it well," I tell him.

His lips turn upward in a small smile. "Thanks," he says quietly.

We're winding our way up his long driveway by then, and I can tell he's anxious to be in the house. "Edward, can you please call me tomorrow to let me know you're okay?" I ask, as I slow down.

He has the door open before the truck stops moving, but he meets my eyes as he closes the door. "If I can, I will," he answers, turning away and jogging to the house without another word.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I spend my Saturday reading and trying not to think about what Edward might be going through. What the hell happens after he has one of those big seizures anyway? I saw him right after when Emmett carried him out of the classroom, and I know the next day he had a terrible headache, but what happens in between? Maybe he just rests for the day, but my imagination is coming up with too many other possibilities. I hope I can find a way to ask that won't offend him.

He calls on Sunday around suppertime, and as soon as I hear his voice, I know he still feels like hell.

"Hello?" I answer eagerly—I've been waiting for this call for more than twenty-four hours.

"Hi, Bella," he says, his words coming slowly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just … tired, and I have a massive headache."

"So, you—"

"Yeah, about five minutes after you dropped me off."

 _Holy fucking shit! He could have had a seizure right in my truck!_ The lump in my throat is almost too thick to swallow around; the combination of fear _of_ him and _for_ him simultaneously is almost more than I can handle.

 _Breathe. It didn't happen, and you can't be afraid of him. He needs you to be there for him._

"You don't have to say anything," Edward says before I can pull myself together enough to speak. "And if you don't want to go out with me anymore, I'll understand."

"No!"

There's a sharp intake of breath, and a mumble of "fuck" before I realize he's misunderstood.

"I mean, yes! I still want to go out with you! Your seizure yesterday has nothing to do with that." I can almost hear him cringe when I say the word "seizure" but after a moment, the rest seems to sink in.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I know what happened yesterday kind of … scared us both, but I'm not afraid of you." _I really, really don't want to be afraid of you. I'm working on it. Please let me keep trying._

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. We'll go to the beach next weekend if it's warm, and if not, we'll find something else to do. We've got to work together to keep our weekends from being boring, right?"

"Right," Edward says, and I just know it's the first time he's smiled since we talked about that yesterday. _Mission accomplished._

"Bella, I need to go. I still feel like shit, and I have to make it to school tomorrow."

"Go crash and I'll see you in homeroom, okay? And don't let Jasper make you late."

He chuckles, and my heart clenches, but it's a funny little good kind of clench. Like I did something right.

"Goodnight, Bella," he says, his tone much lighter than it was when he first said hello.

"Goodnight," I answer, knowing that it really is a good night for both of us.

* * *

A/N: Sigh. Having no control is a difficult thing, and trying not to fear the unknown in another person is a brave one. Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 14 will post on Monday.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **I would rather be a little nobody, then to be an evil somebody.  
** **\- Abraham Lincoln**

 **Edward**

 _Fuck._ How is it Monday already? _Oh, that's right, I had a seizure late in the day on Saturday that ruined my date and scared the hell out of me. And it pretty much killed the rest of my weekend too._

I groan as I roll over, but at least, my damn head isn't hurting. Yesterday's headache was a monster—the only thing I accomplished all day was … calling Bella.

What I can only describe as excitement rushes through me at the mere thought of her name—exactly the same way it's been happening every time since I kissed her last Thursday.

I enjoy it for a minute because it's new, and it feels _so_ good, and it's all mine. _She's_ all mine. And I came so close to losing it this weekend, or at least, I thought I had. I should have known she wouldn't leave me just because I almost had a seizure in her car. She's already seen me lie down on the floor and have one right in front of her, for Christ's sake.

But the way she looked at me—I could see the fear in her eyes and I felt so … alone. Like I was wrong and I wasn't good enough. I hated it, and I wanted to jump out of her truck, but she just kept … talking, and poking, and prodding, and distracting, and fucking _caring_ about me until suddenly, I was home, and I didn't have time to freak out before the seizure hit.

I wonder if she had any idea what she was doing—that it was the best thing she could have done for me. A panic attack followed by a seizure isn't pretty—at least _that_ hasn't happened in almost two years … Oh yeah, except for the day after Bella was with me at school.

 _How the hell did my head get here? Oh, right. Bella._

But now my head is in a completely different place—both of them. The warmth—and my hand—head south as I remember the softness of her lips and the feel of her tongue wrapping around mine. _Jesus._

I've gotten off with quite a few girls, both real and imagined, but no one, not even the best porn flick chick I've ever seen, can get me there as fast as thoughts of Bella. I barely made it to the house after we made out on Thursday; all I did was pull my pants down and I was jizzing all over the bathroom floor. And later that night, and Friday morning, and Friday night right before bed, and Saturday morning, and … yeah, even when I went up to change before our date. I would have done it last night, but raging headache and raging hard-on tend to be mutually exclusive. But I still thought about trying to force the issue.

Speaking of the issue, it's forcing itself right now—right up into the waistband of my boxers.

My hand slides over cotton, and I have to bite my lip to keep in the groan as the ribbing bunches and rolls, creating incredible friction. But I don't want fabric, I want fingers, and if I can't have hers right now, my own will have to do—I'll just pretend they're hers.

I touch the pads of my fingers to my lips, mimicking the soft touch of hers as my other hand slips into my boxers and down my length. _Holy mother of fuck, I've never been this hard before, I swear._

 _She's kissing me, her tongue thrusting against mine just the way I would thrust inside her—_ and suddenly my hips are moving, and I'm fucking my fist just the way she's tongue-fucking me in my head.

The sensation is already building. _Jesus Christ, I'm going to have to get myself drunk and do this just so I can have a few minutes to enjoy it._

I wanna slow down, but I just can't. I'm _so_ close already, and everything in me just wants to explode outward, like I'm a balloon that's ready to pop.

"Ohhhh Bella," I murmur, and suddenly, it's her pussy and not her hand and— _I can't hold it_.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the pressure mounts— _oh God, here it comes_ —

"Edward! Get up, honey; you'll be late for school!"

Mom's head appears around the side of my door just as my world inverts and explodes, and I can't contain the cry that's torn from my chest as my toes curl and I pulse hard into my hand.

I'm barely coherent, but the only thought that does come through is, _I am_ so _fucked._

"Edward, are you okay?"

Mom's halfway into the room now, and if I don't come up with something fast, come is exactly what she's gonna see—all over my dark blue sheets.

I've already curled on my side away from her in some infallible instinct for self-preservation, so I grab my calf with my non-jizzed hand and grind out, "Leg cramp."

"Oh, it must be a really bad one for you to yell like that. Do you need me to massage it for you?"

 _Oh, Jesus, talk about instant karma. Who needs to wait to burn in hell for masturbation when you can have this happen instead?_

"No, I'm fine, Mom. Just … I'll be down in a few, okay?"

"All right, sweetheart, if you're sure."

 _Mom, I have_ never _been more sure of anything in my life._

"Yep, be there soon," I force out, all while trying to figure out if my head is still on my shoulders and to keep from panting after what was arguably one of the best orgasms of my life.

I lie there for a few minutes, stunned by the force of my orgasm and my own stupidity.

 _Emmett would twist my nipple off for this. What are the rules for whackin' your kraken? Locked doors and no whores._ Somehow, I don't think he ever envisioned that applying directly to Mom. Or at least, I hope not.

 _At least, no one will ever know._

Once I can breathe normally and I think my knees won't buckle, I slide out of bed, intent on wiping my hand off before I head to the bathroom.

"Hey, Ed, have you seen my—"

 _Oh, for the love of Christ, can't anyone in this goddamn house at least_ knock?

I freeze halfway between my bed and dresser, my right hand still in "jizz hand" position. Yes, "jizz hand" is remarkably similar to "jazz hand," and every guy on the planet knows what I'm talking about.

Including my fuckwad of a brother.

He freezes too, marveling at my outstretched hand as his expression leaves the station at clueless, journeys through the land of confused, and finally arrives at entirely too amused.

His lips look like they're gonna give birth to something; he's trying so hard to hold in his laughter.

"Emmett—"

"Ed, uh … I think you're having a bit of a … containment problem …"

"Emmett.

"Get.

"The fuck.

"Out.

"Of my room."

He finally explodes with laughter, doubling over with the force of his guffaws, and I'm seriously tempted to give him my best jizz hairstyle.

"I swear to God, Emmett, I'll super glue your dick to your leg while you sleep if you don't get the fuck out of here. _Right. Now._ "

He's still laughing so hard he seems to be having trouble breathing, and right about now, I'd be happy to help him pass out on my floor.

Except that wouldn't get him out of my motherfucking room.

So I snatch up a tissue, wipe my hand, and then shove him bodily out of my room, locking the door as I press my back up against it, Emmett's snickers still echoing in the hallway.

It's seven-ten AM.

 _How is it possible for this much to go wrong in ten fucking minutes?_

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The ride to school is a silent war: Emmett with himself as he tries not to howl with laughter, and me with my subconscious as I try to resist grabbing the wheel and steering his side of the car into something made of concrete.

 _Fucking asshole motherfucker. Maybe I'll glue his dick to his leg anyway._

But the thought of seeing Bella calms me somewhat. I still have a girlfriend, even if I don't understand why, and it feels … good.

I intend to go straight to my locker, but Bella's at hers, and I slip an arm around her waist, chuckling when she startles and sends books flying everywhere.

I've never touched a girl like this in public, and it draws the stares of most of the other girls in the vicinity.

"Edward!" she exclaims, playfully whacking me on the shoulder as she starts to bend to pick up her things, but I beat her to it, gathering her books and offering them to her from one knee on the floor.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd scare you." _But your boobs did this great bounce thing, and I'd totally do it again._

"It's all right. Are you … having a good morning?"

 _Totally. I jizzed in front of my mom and my brother caught me semen-handed. It's been divine._

"Yeah. I'm feeling much better than I did yesterday."

"Good."

Bella's eyes shoot to the floor.

"I missed you," she says to my shoes, and my heart does that lurch thing again, but I know now that it's a normal thing. A good thing. The _right_ thing.

"I missed you too," I tell her, and my hands move to her face of their own accord, pulling her forward to touch my lips to hers.

Heat and want explode in my groin, and I can feel myself getting hard, but I don't care. This isn't about that. It's about something else that I'm way too chickenshit to put a name to, so I just let the wave wash over me and bask in the feeling.

"I'll … see you in homeroom," Bella says as I step back, and she looks exactly the way I imagine I do—eyes wide in wonder and warmth and … want.

"Okay."

Okay, I do care about my hard-on, because my dick is literally screaming at me to rub against her leg, the lockers, something, _anything,_ but we're in the middle of the hallway for Christ's sake. _This is going to be torture if this happens every time I fucking touch her._

 _This happens every time you even_ think _about her_ , _you fucking horndog,_ head-voice snarks at me.

 _I'm gonna need to come up with some more times and places where I can play a little five on one—_

"Edward?"

I startle out of my internal debate to find Bella smirking at me, and Angela smiling over her shoulder.

"Your locker's that way," Bella helpfully supplies, and my face actually stings, it's so fucking hot.

I turn without a word and slink to my locker, hoping to God no one else saw me standing there like a lovesick puppy.

 _Did I just think the "L" word?_

Seriously. What the _hell_ is happening to me?

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I make it through the day without hitting my emergency Xanax, but it's a near thing. Since I started hanging out with Mike and the other jocks freshman year, I've never done anything that wasn't exactly what they expected. But dating Bella? That's definitely cause for strange looks at best and outright abuse at worst.

As I'm heading to my locker, I spy Mike and Tyler on the lobby steps, giving some sophomore girls a raft of shit. Mike gives me the eye, and I click into autopilot, taking my position as his wingman and joining in.

"Yeah, Katie, we all know you fell out of the slut tree—"

I happen to glance over Katie's head and lock eyes with Bella. My heart lurches, but this time, it bottoms out in my shoes. She doesn't look angry, just … really fucking disappointed. I've made it a point to disappear when the guys start in on her friends, but what does she expect? I can't just stop being who I am.

"—and banged every guy on the way down."

Bella's lips form a thin line, and her eyes flash as she turns and stalks toward her locker.

Now she's pissed.

 _Bang!_

Really fucking pissed.

She's supposed to come over to my house after school. _Fuck._ Maybe I should just wait on Emmett today.

 _The fuck you say?_ my dick cries out. He's been waiting all fucking day for the three B's: Bella, bedroom, and bow chicka bow wow. _You better apologize, grovel—do whatever it fucking takes to fix this!_

But my feet are even colder than Bella and my dick are pissed, and I feel … ashamed.

I leave Mike and Tyler as soon as I can, intent on grabbing my stuff and heading out to the stands to watch practice, but Bella's waiting at my locker.

 _Shit._

I approach with caution. She doesn't _look_ like she's about to rip my balls off, but looks can be deceiving. Lauren kissed me before she tried to twist them off that one time—I will _never_ let an angry woman within three feet of my jewels again.

She smiles, and I know it's meant to reassure me, but it just puts me more on edge.

"I think I'll just wait for Emmett today."

She puts a hand on my arm, and I freeze, my attraction to her and my self-preservation instinct deadlocked.

"Can we talk?"

 _No, no, no, no, no …_

"Sure."

You _are a dumbass_.

I follow her to her truck.

 _A pussy-whipped dumbass._

Why do I need Emmett when my own inner voice so often beats him to the punch?

 _Everybody needs a wingman._

Isn't that what's landed me here?

Bella sits behind the wheel, but she doesn't turn on the truck, so I know that whatever's coming, it's going to happen right here and now.

"Why do you make fun of people like that?" she asks, her brown eyes wide and innocent as they search mine.

"I don't know," I reply, staring at my knees. Actually, I do know, but I don't want to tell her—I'm sure she won't approve. When I first gravitated toward Mike freshman year, I'd done it instinctively, but eventually, when I thought it out, I realized that if you were always on the offensive, you would never have to be on the defensive. That was exactly what I needed to keep my secret, so I became Edward the jerk—cool with all the popular kids, but bane of the existence of the geeks, dweebs, and misfits. I don't like it, but it's the role I have to play to protect myself.

"I don't believe you," she says, and it's as if she can see right through me. I consider arguing, but do I really want to push her away? She already knows almost everything.

"That's who I have to be."

"Why?"

"Because the best defense is a good offense," I say, thinking back to Emmett's words from so long ago. It was the first time he kicked the shit out of somebody before they could lay a hand on me, and I'd realized his words applied to my social life too.

"I don't understand."

"If I make fun of people, everyone looks at them, and no one ever looks at me."

Bella's eyes widen. "Your secret?"

I just nod, feeling the shame that I talked myself out of long ago turn my stomach.

"That's … not what I expected."

I raise my eyes to her and she looks … relieved?

"What, you thought I was just a jerk by nature?"

She blushes, and I don't know whether to laugh or be insulted.

"You're very good at the front you put up."

That's a compliment, I think.

"I have to be."

"Edward, don't you realize what you're doing?"

"I'm protecting myself," I answer, but I know that's not what she means. I justified and laid to rest what she means two years ago.

"Maybe, but you're also doing to them exactly what you don't want done to you. You're guarding against your own worst fear by making theirs come true."

Ouch. When you put it like that …

"No, I'm not—"

"Yes, you are. And you know you are. You might not want to think about it, but you know."

"How the hell do you know _that_?" I snap, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but her truck.

"Because you're about to tear the armrest off my door, and you're breathing faster."

"Stop watching me!" I yell, and now my breathing really does speed up as the walls of her truck seem to close in on me.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, trying to keep the panic at bay and my ass in the seat while all my instincts scream at me to run away.

Bella squeezes my forearm gently, and then begins to rub up and down. Her touch grounds me, and I focus on that until the need to escape fades.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I try not to let anyone ever watch me that closely because …"

"Because it makes you panic."

"Yeah." I don't think I've ever admitted that to anyone—not even Mom.

"I'm sorry for making you feel trapped. I'll try not to do it again."

I squeeze my eyes shut as shame and self-loathing over my weakness flare, but it's … me, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

"I can't change, Bella. I can't change my diagnosis, and I can't change how I react, and I can't change who I am at school."

"You're right," she says, still rubbing my arm to soothe me. "At least partially. You can't change your epilepsy, and I don't know if you can change the way it makes you feel, but you _can_ change how you treat people at school. There are plenty of kids who don't make fun of anyone else and still don't get picked on themselves."

"But there's no guarantee," I quickly point out. "If I'm with Mike, I'm untouchable. No one can hurt me."

"But are you hurting yourself?" she asks, and her words rip open the wound I ignore and have learned not to even feel anymore. The one that festers and grows deeper every time I cut down someone else.

"It doesn't matter. I can't go from being somebody to being nobody." And as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I've made a terrible mistake.

"Bella, I—"

"No, it's true. I _am_ nobody, and you can't go from being nobody to being somebody either. I tried at the beginning of the year, remember?"

"You're _not_ nobody," I reply hotly, but I understand what she means. We both know how high school works.

She just shakes her head with a sad smile.

"So where do we meet, Edward? How do we do this when you're one of the most popular kids at school and I'm … not?"

"I don't know," I answer. I wish I could tell her I don't care what anyone thinks, but it's not true. It can't be true because of my situation. It can never be true.

"Will you at least think about what I said? Think about trying not to be Mike's minion? For me?"

Her eyes are _so_ brown, and when they're a little wet, they look even more intense.

"I … yeah, I will," I reply, and the smile that lights up her face is totally worth it.

My dick doesn't understand why she still can't come in so we can legsturbate, but my head is way too preoccupied with our conversation.

And Bella knows it.

"I'll see you in the morning, Edward," she says as we pull up in front of my house, and I get out of her truck without a second thought.

"Yeah, see you," I mumble, too lost in my own head to even try to interpret her smile.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I think hard over the next few days, but I really have no solution to either of my problems. I'm afraid to stop being the person I've been for two years, and she and I don't seem to fit into any social group as a couple.

On the way to lunch on Friday, Bella takes my hand and pulls me off to the side before we go into the caf.

"Can we sit with my friends today? I love having lunch with you, but I hardly get to talk to Alice and Angela anymore. Please?"

She tilts her chin and pulls out the puppy dog eyes, and I'm powerless. She seals the deal by wrapping a hand around the back of my head and pulling me down for a kiss, not knowing she had me at "please."

I spend the next few minutes in a haze of "she kissed me" until we have our lunches and are heading for her friends' table.

The guys have gotten used to me sitting with Bella and pretty much leave me alone about it, but I'm about to cross another line, and I don't know what it'll do. Not to mention that I don't know what to say to any of these people I've spent the last two years ridiculing.

I slow down and Bella grabs my hand. _How the hell does she always know when I'm getting ready to bolt?_

"It'll be fine. I promise," she whispers, and suddenly we're standing at the table.

Ben and Eric are gaping, but my eyes are drawn to Gothzilla—I mean Alice—who has clearly decided that today is a good day to die, or in her case, to murder someone.

"Hi, Edward! Why don't you sit right here?"

It takes me a moment to tear my eyes away from Alice—she's like a fucking cobra with that unblinking stare—to find myself face to face with Angela's smile.

That and Bella's hand on my lower back—I'm not sure if it's there to comfort me or keep me from running—manage to calm me enough to sit down without falling over the chair.

Bella sits down … and then everyone stares at me. Whatever conversation they'd been having is long gone because me coming over here with Bella is more interesting than anything else that's happened today, or possibly this year. _Fuck._

I may look cool— _at least, I hope I do_ —but sweat is gathering at the back of my neck and in the palms of my hands.

They're judging me. All of them—well, maybe not Angela, but the rest are. They're thinking of all the things I've done to them over the years, and to everyone else, and wondering why the hell I'm here.

 _Why the hell am I here?_

I slide my chair back in preparation to stand, but I freeze when a soft, warm hand lands on my arm. My eyes are drawn to hers, and she looks so damn sad in that moment. Heartbroken.

And I can't take it.

 _Dammit._

I slump in my chair, wondering how the hell I'm going to make it through the next half hour. This might be worse than taking shit from Mike and Austin.

"So, who are you and Mike gonna fuck with this week, Edward?"

Bella and Angela gasp, and that's quickly followed by a thump and an, "Ouch!" from Ben.

I glare at him, but Bella's hand on my thigh keeps me from shooting off my mouth. _Cocky little fucker. I oughta—_

"Who all is going to the dance tonight?" Angela asks, her voice quavering a little. "Ben and I are gonna go."

"I'm deejay," Eric says.

"I'm going," Bella says, and I have to admit I'm a little surprised. I didn't really think she was a social outing type of girl.

"Are you gonna go, Edward?" she asks me, and the whole table freezes, but all I can see is the look of mischief in Bella's eyes.

 _If we don't go, I'll never jizz for you again—_ my dick threatens. The greedy little fucker can spot the chance for action from a zip code away, and Bella's eyes are just about promising it. _Oohhh … yeaahh. Doo, bow bow, chicka chicka chickaaahh._

I sit up straighter to hide the interpretive dance that's now going on in my pants— _Goddammit, I oughta get a fucking Boy Scout badge for how many tents I've pitched this week._

"Yeah, I'm gonna go," I answer, and the "Hallelujah Chorus" overpowers Ferris Bueller as my dick reaches full mast. _Fuck. Now I've got to clean the pipes again before I go to class._

Bella's smile widens, but Gothzilla huffs in disgust. I don't think she's taken her eyes off me since I sat down, as if she's trying to penetrate my shields so she can watch me explode.

"I'll go … _if_ Eric agrees to play stuff other than Top 40."

"Like what, Alice? The Cure?"

Finally! Gothzilla's phasers turn full blast on Eric, and that dude looks like he's got weaker shields than me.

"They are the root of modern Alternative, Eric. You should show them some respect!"

The conversation continues on, and I breathe a sigh of relief not to be the center of attention anymore. Bella's hand has never left my thigh, and now it starts to creep north toward my tent pole. She brushes the bottom of my sack, and my dick gives an almighty twitch, warning me that he could go from redwood to Old Faithful in a matter of seconds if she does that again. _God, do I want her to do that again._

My hand intercepts hers, and I intertwine our fingers before my dick can talk me into jizzing at the lunch table, and I try to relax and keep from creating friction with my jeans. _Five more minutes._

I attempt to focus on the conversation and look anywhere but at Bella because looking at her makes the urge to squirm and rub almost overwhelming. _Three more minutes._

Bella squeezes my hand, and when I finally do look over, she's frowning.

"Are you okay?" she mouths.

 _Shit. Do I look like I'm in pain?_

I nod, trying not to close my eyes in concentration because that's the point I'm at right now. I'm pressing forward every time I breathe because I can't fucking help it, and everything is tightening. _Yup, I may blow a load right here at the table, but that's cool, right?_

The bell rings and I'm out of my chair like a shot, gasping as the motion moves my fly over my aching dick and nearly makes me lose it. I'm holding it in by sheer will now, and I'm not gonna last long.

"Edward?"

"I'll see you at gym," I call over my shoulder, trying to run casually as each step gives me a little more friction.

I head straight into a stall, whip it out, grab my balls, and— _oh-my-God-Jesus-fuck_ —I pulse with each word-thought, a fresh wave of pleasure each time, and I'm left leaning against the wall holding my spent dick.

 _I gotta get a handle on this before I die from over-jizzing. It that even a thing?_

* * *

A/N: Yes, Edward, it is, in fact, a thing: If a male is ejaculating too often and not giving his body time to replenish lost semen, he may start to experience certain ill effects. Common ones include post-ejaculation fatigue, lack of strength, and lethargy. Other signs include sore, weak lower back and knees and poor concentration. You've got enough problems, Gorgeous. Take it easy with whacking the weasel, eh?

Also, this might be my favorite chapter in the whole story so far. Just saying. Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 15 will post on Monday.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **There are two kinds of secrets. The ones we keep from others and the ones we keep from ourselves.  
** – **Frank Warren**

I make it through the rest of the day without having to deal with the fallout of my lunch table choice mostly by avoidance—gym made it easy to evade the guys, and I skipped last period Spanish so I wouldn't have to face Lauren and Jessica. I'm sure _that's_ going to make my Monday fun.

But it's not Monday now. It's Friday night, and for the first time in what my dick tells me is eons, I'm going to a dance _with a girl_.

Given my … _situation_ , Emmett has agreed to drive Bella and me to the dance with him and Rosalie. Normally, I would just go with Jasper or Tyler, but I have a girl now, and I can't very well have Bella pick me up when everyone thinks I should be driving.

 _Motherfucker, if I could only drive a fucking car._

I've thought about doing it illegally, but Mom would have an aneurysm if she found out, and God forbid I actually had a seizure behind the wheel, or even worse, Bella's dad caught me.

This whole girlfriend thing draws a lot of attention to the question of my driving that I used to be able to avoid—just one more thing for me to be stressed about. _Goddammit._

"What are you thinking about back there, lover boy?" Emmett asks, wearing a grin I'd like to smack off his fucking face. "Going over the birds and bees since yours have been in hibernation for a while?"

"Fuck off, asswipe," I growl, glaring at him as my face goes hot, but I say nothing more. It's better he thinks I'm daydreaming about sex than stressing over my limitations.

"Stay out of trouble tonight, will ya? Rosie and I have plans."

"Whatever."

I have zero intentions of staying out of trouble—after the week I've had, he actually expects me to stay sober? I need a good stiff drink almost as much as I need to jerk off, and that's saying something.

Emmett goes to Rosalie's house first, and as I watch him walk her back to the car, I can tell she's already bitching about something. Some _one_ is probably more accurate because I'd bet my left nut it has to do with me.

Emmett reaches for her a few feet from the car, but she pulls away and whips open the door, a whirlwind of candy apple red lipstick, thick eye makeup, and way too much perfume.

"Hey, Rosalie," I say, knowing that affirming my existence is usually all that's needed to piss her off.

"Hey, Ed- _ward_ ," she singsongs as Emmett gets into the car, shoveling the sarcasm into her tone with a backhoe.

"Play nice, you two," Emmett says, sighing in resignation.

"We wouldn't have to play _at all_ if Edward would just get his own damn car," Rosalie snaps, and I flinch, but that's immediately followed by the urge to slap the back of the bitch's head.

"Now, Rosie—"

"What? Can't your brother do anything for himself? You're always babying him—now we have to cart him and his girlfriend around too?"

I close my eyes as the anger and frustration come to a boil inside me, but I bite my fucking tongue because there's nothing I can say. She's right—Emmett and my parents do baby me, but it's not as if I want it this way, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

"That's _enough_ ," Emmett barks, his gaze apologetic in the rearview mirror, but that just makes me even more disgusted with the whole thing.

Rosalie huffs and crosses her arms, but she doesn't say another word.

We pull up in front of Bella's, and I give the car door a good slam as I get out, but it does nothing to calm me.

Thankfully, her dad's at work, so at least I don't have to deal with Mister "I've got a shotgun and shovel—no one will miss you" tonight.

Bella flings open the door before I can knock, but the smile on her face dies a quick death as soon as she gets a look at me.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," I bark before I even realize I've done it, and I instantly regret it as her curious look morphs into hurt.

 _Fuck._

"I'm sorry, I—"

But I don't get to finish because she steps forward, grabs the back of my neck, and pulls me down for one hell of a kiss.

 _What the fuck were we talking about?_ Because right now, all I can think about is how fast my dick is hardening and how much I want to pin her to the siding and grind until she ends up in the living room.

About two seconds before I do just that, a horn sounds behind us, and Bella breaks away, grinning and wiping her mouth.

"Wha—um …"

"You looked like you needed it," she says, sliding a hand down my cheek. "And thanks for apologizing."

She walks ahead of me, and I'm left to stumble in her wake, dazed and confused.

 _Wasn't she supposed to be mad that I snapped at her, and then pester the crap out of me until I tell her what happened?_

Maybe I don't understand girls as well as I thought I did.

As soon as I open the car door for Bella, Rosalie says, "Come on, kids, the bus is leaving," in her most sarcastic tone.

Some girls, I understand perfectly. _God, what a bitch. Doesn't my dumbfuck brother care about anything other than tits and ass?_

Bella shoots me a confused look, but I just shake my head. She seems to understand, though, because she takes my hand and squeezes. A jolt of warmth spikes through me, and I know it has nothing to do with lust, even when she's sitting this close. She just _gets it_.

I disentangle from her hand, but only so I can grab it with my other one and put my arm around her. She snuggles into my shoulder, and by the time we make it to the school, her warm breath and soft kisses on my neck have me so fucking horny, I can hardly see straight.

 _Do we have to go to the dance? Can't we just stay in the car? Or the woods? Or the middle of the fucking parking lot?_

My dick hasn't had this much to say since I first discovered porn.

But Bella looks so excited to be here!

 _I'm excited too—doesn't that count for anything? I'm so fucking excited; all she has to do is—_

Which is exactly why we're going into the dance first. Zero to jizz in ten seconds will _not_ impress a girl, no matter how much you tell her it's because of her mad skills, and I'd like a few minutes of awesome before you get yours.

 _But—_

"Edward?"

Holy mother of fuck, have I been sitting here having a conversation with my _dick_?

"Yeah, coming!"

 _No, we're_ definitely _not_.

I scramble out of the car, red-faced, and Emmett smirks at me from the other side and gives me a "jizz hand" wave.

How does that fucker always know?

 _Because he talks to his dick too. And in a nicer way than you do._

Did you just turn into a pussy right before my very eyes?

"Edward?"

Now I'm standing next to the car _looking down at my crotch_.

Oh, my God, I have _got_ to get this under control.

I shake my head to clear it and take Bella's hand, trying to focus on something other than my recent heart-to-dick … head-to-head … whatever.

As soon as we're through the doors, Angela comes running up to Bella.

" _There_ you are! Let's dance!"

Bella looks back at me helplessly as Ang tugs her out onto the floor, but I just wave and thank God it's not me. I'm a good four beers shy of _that_.

Speaking of beers, Jasper and Tyler are nowhere to be seen. _Those fuckers better not have left without me._

Since I have no one to hang out with and nothing better to do, I lean against a caf table next to Ben and watch the girls dance.

"Are you as happy as I am that it's not me out there?" I ask, surprising even myself.

"Yeah, totally. But … the view is pretty nice," he answers, not missing a beat. Maybe this guy is okay after all.

I nod, admiring Bella's _ass_ ets until my dick decides to start doing the rain— _no rain?_ —dance in my pants. Luckily, the song ends, and the girls come over to stand with us.

Ben and Angela stand a few inches apart, but I throw my arm around Bella's waist and tuck my hand into her front pocket as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

 _What the fuck did I just do?_

But Bella molds against me and lays her head on my shoulder, smiling so widely it's as if the sun just came out in the darkened room.

And it feels _good_.

And I realize that all this week I've just wanted to be close to her, and not tickle my dick close. Cuddle close, and talk close, and … _Jesus Christ, I think_ I'm _moving too fast for me_.

"Hey, guys."

My eyes start at her boots, meandering up to the slits in her leggings that stripe her legs from knee to _way too high_ , to the tube top across her thighs that would have to grow four inches to be called a skirt, to the studded leather thing hugging her waist, to the boobs spilling over it like they're dying to escape.

 _Whoa._

And "come to the dark side, we have cookies," takes on a whole new meaning.

I glance over at Ben and his eyes are just as bugged out as mine must be—how is it possible for Gothzilla to go from "The Nightmare after Halloween" to someone I wanna meet in a strip club?

"Alice! Uh … wow!" Bella stammers because she's the first one to regain the power of speech.

"What?" Alice asks, silently daring anyone to comment on her outfit, but I don't like my balls' odds against those platform boots of hers, so I keep my mouth shut like everyone else.

"Nothing!" Angela exclaims. "I'm so glad you came!"

Alice's eyes dart around the circle, coming to rest on me with a dark glare. I edge behind Bella, subtly putting my girlfriend between those boots and my aforementioned balls. _Bella would understand; someday soon, she may have a use for my balls, after all._

I stand with my arms around Bella as the girls chat, and a feeling of … contentment steals over me. I've never been able to do this—I've never had a real girlfriend, I've never stood just … touching a girl for the sake of doing it—all of my female interactions since the eighth grade have been of the "wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am" variety since I can't ever let anyone get too close. I never really thought I was missing out, but now? Now, I'm feeling in ways I didn't even know existed, and it's as if a whole new world has opened up.

A slow song comes on, and Angela grabs Ben's hand and pulls him toward the floor. He rolls his eyes as he passes me, but he doesn't really look _that_ unwilling.

And suddenly, I'm staring into fathomless brown eyes that look so hopeful, so eager.

"Will … will you dance with me, Edward?" she asks in shy schoolgirl voice, and my heart does that thing again, and I _like_ it.

I nod because I'm blown away by what I'm feeling, and we get to the center of the floor, and it's dark, and "Use Somebody" is playing, and I pull her to me as her arms lock around my neck and her head rests on my chest, and _oh, fuck, how did I not know about this_?

I hold her. I breathe in the floral scent of her hair, taste the sweet tang of her skin as I place a kiss behind her ear, feel the soft press of her breasts against me. And nothing exists in that moment except the two of us, and this _feeling_.

It's growing. It fills my chest and I can barely breathe and for once, that's a _good_ thing. I have a name for it, but it scares the shit out of me. This was only supposed to be a way to ensure Bella's silence, but it's turned into so much more. It's what I _want_ and what I _need_ and … what I cannot live without.

 _This can't be happening._

 _Why not?_ the voice in my head asks. _Why can't you have what the others have now that Bella knows the truth about you?_

Jiminy Fucking Cricket has a good point, for once. Why _can't_ I have this? She obviously cares about me, and no one ever has to know how this all started. Why can't it just be that she's mine now, and fuck everyone else and the horse they rode in on?

 _There's no reason why it can't._

I squeeze her a little tighter, and the peace that fills me is unreal.

" _I hope it's gonna make you notice …"_

I've never wanted to be noticed by anyone, but now, from this girl in my arms, I want it more than anything in the world.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I hang on to her, reveling in the discovery that I _want_ this because I haven't allowed myself to want anything other than a cure since I was diagnosed. I have no idea how much time has passed, but I suddenly become aware that another slow song has come on, and Bella shifts against me, her thigh brushing against my erect dick, who's just been biding his time while I had my little emotional awakening.

I gasp and grit my teeth as a wave of … _need_ nearly overpowers me, and when I open my eyes, Bella is smirking at me.

She presses as close to me as she can, and this time, she slides _upward_.

 _HolyJesusmotherfucker_ —"Unnghh."

Bella giggles. She actually fucking _giggles_ , and dammit, enough is _enough_.

"Come on, I know a place where we can have a little privacy," I say, grabbing her hand and leading her out the back door of the cafeteria.

It's pitch dark, but the arc light overhead illuminates the fine, misty raindrops to the point that they look like snowflakes. Intent on my destination, I pull her out of the light and toward the football field. Around the back of the stands, there's a large brown shed where they keep the mower for the field and the other maintenance equipment. It's dark, secluded, and I know where they keep the spare key.

Even in the dark, I can see her eyes widen as I reach up under the eave of the little roof at exactly the right spot and produce a key.

"Shall we?" I invite, grinning smugly as I open the door and gesture her inside with a flourish. I glance around then shut the door behind us, pocketing the key. That's the universal signal to the other half dozen guys who know about this place: if the key isn't there, the room's busy.

Bella stands in the middle of the little space, her arms crossed at the wrists while she glances around at the equipment. My goal is for her to not remember a single thing in this room but me.

I walk toward her, a coy smile turning up the corners of my mouth as I think about what I want to do in the next few minutes. I stop about three inches from her nose, staring into those amazing brown eyes and breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume. I join my hands with hers, my gaze never wavering, and then I move imperceptibly closer. I hear her rapid intake of breath as her eyes flutter closed, and in that moment, I know she wants me just as much as I want her.

I close the distance and meet her lips gently, exploring as heat blooms in my chest. She responds by stepping even closer, her fingers tightening in mine as her tongue gently runs along my bottom lip. I release her—needing her closer still—and run my hands up her back, the smooth cotton of her blouse making the tips of my fingers tingle with sensation. She shivers as I pull her against me, my stomach flipping giddily and my dick twitching as I thrust my tongue deeply into her mouth.

 _Oh._

 _My._

 _God._

Her whole body clings to mine now, her breasts soft and supple against my abs, her heat radiating against my thigh just below where my dick presses against her needily. I can't help but slide downward—it's as if my dick is following a fucking homing signal to where it wants to be.

 _Oh, fuck, we have_ got _to go further tonight, or I'm gonna lose my mind._

We've been doing the bump and grind every time I can get her alone, but we haven't actually touched each other yet.

I'm so lost in myself that I almost forget what she's doing—her hands are now wound into my hair as we continue to kiss—her lips and tongue exploring me with increasing urgency.

 _Maybe if I touch her first …_

My hands slide under her shirt and make quick work of her bra strap, and while I hate like hell to remove my dick from her thigh, my desire to fill my hands with her breasts is even stronger. I break away from her lips as I ease my hands under her shirt, asking permission with my eyes as I slowly make my way up her chest. She nods uncertainly, so I smile to reassure her. This is going to drive her wild.

I cup my hands gently under her breasts—her skin is so soft and warm, and the shape is just _so_ perfect—my thumbs circle slowly over her nipples, and I smirk as she moans, her eyes closing of their own accord. I want to rip her shirt off and take both of her hardened nipples into my mouth … _slow, slow_ , I remind myself and lean forward to leave a trail of hot wetness on her neck instead.

Her hands leave my hair and slide down my sides, and I'm so fucking aroused from everything we've already done that the mere thought of her actually touching my dick is almost enough to make me jizz.

 _Keep going; keep going; yes! Now move to the center …_

Her right hand comes to rest on the top of my jeans, and I quiver in anticipation as I try to keep feathering kisses on her neck.

Slowly her hand slides down, and I gasp raggedly as she touches me. She jumps back.

"I'm sorry!"

In my lust-filled haze, I'm barely aware that she seems a little frightened. "Oh, no, Bella, don't be sorry. Actually … could you do that again?"

She looks at me uncertainly. "Are you sure it's okay?"

I open my eyes and telegraph my sincerity. "Oh, it's _better_ than okay."

"I mean—"

Oh.

 _Dammit._ _Not_ what I want to be thinking about right now.

"Yes, it's okay," I answer, trying to hide my exasperation. "Can you do me a favor, please? Just assume I can do everything everyone else can, unless I tell you otherwise, okay?"

She nods sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I thought that since we hadn't …"

 _Hold the fuck up._ She thought we hadn't gone further yet because _I_ couldn't, _not_ because she wasn't ready? So we could've …

 _Edward, you stupid motherfucker._

 _Who the fuck cares?_ my dick pipes up. _Her hand is_ right there _, and so help me, if we don't get some action soon—_

"Don't worry about it. Now, where were we?" I say, molding my lips to hers.

Her hand slides down between us again, and she starts to tentatively rub over the bulge in my jeans.

Oh God … it's been _way_ too long since a girl touched me like this. Since Lauren Mallory, in fact, and that was during the last school year. I moan against Bella's mouth as pleasure spikes through me, and I can't help but press against her hand and squirm a bit to try and get more friction.

Her strokes grow firmer as she becomes more confident, squeezing a bit as she traces the outline of my dick with her fingers. I try to keep kissing her, but soon, I can't focus on anything but what she's doing to me. I start to pant, my breath catching as she pauses and then releasing on ragged moans every time she rubs her hand down my length.

Some part of me knows I'm going to scare the hell out of her when I come, but that part is very far removed from the one that's in control right now. There's no way I could bring myself to ask her to stop. It's just. Too. Good.

As she moves faster, my breathing accelerates, my lungs trying to keep up with the twinges of pleasure rolling over me, winding me in ever-tighter spirals …

I cry out as lights flash behind my eyes and warm wetness spurts onto my stomach, holding on to her as my knees threaten to buckle, the pleasure so intense that I know nothing but the waves of ecstasy washing over me. I never want it to end.

I slowly become aware that Bella is very still in my arms.

"Did you just—"

I nod, my eyes closed, still breathing heavily and trying to remember who I am.

"Because I was—"

She pauses, and I open my eyes to find her staring at me, eyes wide as saucers. I raise an eyebrow at her. "You _do_ know how this works—"

"Of course, I do," she stammers. "I just—"

"You've never gotten a guy off before?" I venture helpfully. She shakes her head.

"Well, you have now."

A smug, satisfied grin spreads across her face, and she leans in and kisses me. Just as things are getting hot and heavy again and I'm starting to wonder if I can get hard five minutes after getting off, a loud bang sounds on the door of the shed. We both jump, and Bella squeaks in fright.

"Relax; it's not a teacher or anything. I'm not the only one who knows where that key is. Someone's just getting impatient."

"We'd better go, then," she says, still smirking.

What I want to do is slide bonelessly to the floor and lie there with a grin on my face for a good half hour, but that's pretty much out of the question.

"I _guess_ ," I concede grudgingly.

But before she moves away from me, I run my palm over her center, squeezing a little bit and rubbing my middle finger right in the center. Her eyes drift closed, but they fly open again as I whisper in her ear. "Next time, it's your turn." I chuckle at her shocked expression. Having a girlfriend is going to be _so_ much fun.

We go outside, and I replace the key in its customary location, and as we head down the little hill, I hear the shed door open with a creak. At least, whoever it was waited until we were gone—running into another couple in that situation is just fucking awkward.

We stop by the bathrooms so I can clean up a bit, and then we head back to the dance. The minute we walk through the caf doors, Jasper and Tyler are on top of me.

"Where the _hell_ have you _been_?" Jasper demands, ready to rip my head off.

"I was … busy," I respond cagily, giving an exaggerated eye roll in Bella's general direction.

"Oh. Well … now that you're here, we're all ready to go."

"Okay, just give me a minute," I tell him, and he grabs Tyler by the collar and heads back out the door.

Bella has a suspicious look on her face, and I feel as if she's looking right through me as she narrows her eyes. "What's going on?"

"Um … guy stuff. I'll be back in a little while," I tell her, putting an arm around her waist and giving her my most charming smile. "Go hang out with Ang and Alice, and I'll be back before you know it."

She still looks suspicious, but it's not like she's going to stop me, so I give her a peck on the cheek and turn to follow the guys out into the night. Now for the second best part of the evening.

* * *

A/N: A boy and his dick. Do you think most of them have conversations with theirs? I imagine the relationship is quite intimate and vocal during the teenage years. Now, where is Edward off to? Teaser in Shadow Fics on Friday, and Chapter 16 will post on Monday.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **Nothing matters but the moment. There might be no tomorrow, and even if there is, nobody gives a damn.  
-Judy Blume**

 **Bella**

 _What the hell is he up to?_

I've got a few ideas— _please, don't let it be drugs_ —but I'm a little miffed that he left me right after we— _oh, God, I wanna do that again_.

Heat is still smoldering in my belly from when he touched me … there, and I wanna know what comes next. _Really_ badly.

He's been so attentive this week, and _so_ sweet, and I feel like I'm falling even though I know I shouldn't. But he's been so different from the way he was, he's … real when he's with me, and it's even starting to spill over into the way he is at school—like when he had lunch with my friends on Friday. Maybe he _is_ changing. For _me_.

The thought makes my chest flutter and my heart pound, and I let myself enjoy it.

 _This is okay. This is_ good.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I spend the next hour dancing with Ang and The Gothlet, although The Gothlet looks a little out of place without a stripper pole in that outfit. I swear, if she didn't have leggings on, she'd be flashing us her minge fringe.

We take a break from dancing, and Ang goes off to find her lovemuffin, so it's just The Gothlet and me standing and trying to catch our breath.

I almost fall over as someone drapes their arms over my shoulders, the smell of alcohol so overwhelming that I choke as I inhale. Edward's lips brush against my ear.

"Hello, beautiful," he purrs, dropping one hand to my waist and squeezing gently.

I lift his arm and spin around to face him, and he rears his head back and squints at me.

"Holy shit, Edward! How much did you have to drink?"

"Enough," he replies, chuckling, his hands firmly gripping my shoulder and hip as his body sways.

"Too much," I scold him. "If a teacher sees you like this, they'll be calling my dad."

But he's not listening to me; his hand moves up to caress my cheek as his glassy eyes drink me in.

"So soft," he murmurs quietly. "Dance with me," he says, throwing both arms over my shoulders and pressing his body against mine.

"You are in _no_ condition to dance. We need to get you out of here before you get caught. Here," I say, maneuvering him backward until his backside is against one of the caf tables. "Stay here while I go find Emmett, okay?"

He shakes his head stubbornly, hands pawing at my chest.

"N-n-n-o, s-s-stay here," he slurs, closing his eyes and reaching down to grip the table with both hands.

 _Jesus, he's really wasted. How the fuck did he even get back here? I have to find Emmett and get him out of here as soon as possible._

"I'll be right back; I promise. Alice will stay with you."

The Gothlet's eyes grow wide as saucers, so I cock my head and purse my lips imploringly. She scowls at me but nods, so I turn my attention back to Edward.

"Stay, _please_ ," I plead, squeezing his shoulder. He nods slowly, his eyes still closed.

I spin around and walk quickly across the cafeteria toward where I last saw Emmett. The rowdy group of senior boys is still there, but Emmett isn't among them. _Shit._

I glance back and Edward is still where I left him, staring at the dance floor while The Gothlet stands uncomfortably beside him.

 _Where the hell else could Emmett be?_

Suddenly, it dawns on me, and I look over at Rosalie's group of friends. She's missing, too. _Dammit, this isn't going to go well._

I leave the caf, knowing they won't be anywhere else in the building because everything is locked. The teachers patrol the parking lot, so they won't be back in the car … unless they took the car somewhere.

 _No, Emmett wouldn't leave Edward alone here with no way to get home if he needed to._

The shed? _Maybe, but that place seemed quite busy and in high demand._

I walk past it, hoping I find them somewhere else so I don't have to knock on the door.

Behind the bleachers? _Yes! I bet that's it!_

It's pitch dark back here since the stadium lights are off, and as I round the first metal beam, there are couples scattered everywhere—splayed out on the crossbeams, backed against the poles, using the stored sports equipment in ways that were _never_ intended.

I walk through, trying to stay far enough away not to attract anyone's attention but close enough to tell if the face-sucking couple in question is Emmett and Rosalie. Thankfully, Emmett's size allows me to rule out most without getting too close, but— _Ew! Ken Doll and … that's_ not _Jessica_.

I cringe and hurry away, as they get a little more … vocal. _Yuck!_

And for just a moment, I actually feel sorry for Bubble Butt. _She may be a bitch, but no one deserves to be disrespected like that. Ken Doll is such an asshole._

There's only one more couple under the bleachers, and they're at the far end, lying on one of the high jump mats.

 _Completely_ horizontal.

 _Please don't be; please don't be_ …

But those broad shoulders couldn't possibly belong to anyone else, and I can see Rosalie's blonde hair fanned out on the dark mat from here.

 _Jesus H. Christ on a fucking tin crutch, I am the unluckiest girl in the universe._

He's moving, and she _isn't_ quiet. My face flames when I hear her … _oh, my God, she sounds just like a chipmunk_.

I would laugh my ass off if I weren't so mortified to be standing here.

 _Should I just hide until they're done?_

An image of Edward holding on to that table for dear life flashes before my eyes.

 _If he passes out, he's busted. I can't let that happen._

I step a little closer, even though every instinct is telling me to run to another zip code. _Maybe Rosalie will chase me there after I do this._

I gather my courage, and hiss "Emmett," but it takes me only a second to realize I'm going to have to be much louder to be heard over his grunts and her chipmunk chirping.

"Oh, Emmett," she damn near squeals, and I know I have to get this over with before they get to the end—I'm already gonna have nightmares.

"Emmett!"

They freeze for a split second, then Emmett is on his feet and Rosalie is flopping like a fish with her pants around her ankles.

 _Oh, my holy God, I_ never _needed to see that_.

I turn away as Emmett whips around, his … horse still out of the barn, and I cringe as I hear him close up the hoedown.

"Bella? What the fuck—"

"Oh, my God, you're fucking kidding me. What the fucking hell—"

"It's Edward."

Emmett's eyes widen, and he's moving toward me, Rosalie completely forgotten.

"Did he—"

"He's drunk, Emmett. Really fucking drunk, and I'm afraid he's gonna pass out right in the middle of the gym—"

Emmett goes from scared to livid so fast it makes my head spin.

"That fucking asshole! I _told_ him to stay out of trouble! I'm gonna kick his ass from here to Seattle!"

"This is _Edward's_ fault?" Rosalie exclaims from behind us.

"Can it, Rosie!" Emmett barks. "I need to go. Can you get a ride home with Lauren?"

Rosalie huffs incredulously, but Emmett is _so_ not in the mood.

"Can you?"

"Yeah," she pouts, crossing her arms.

"I'll call you later," Emmett tells her as he takes off for the caf with me struggling to keep up.

"Were you with him?" Emmett asks, giving me a sidelong glance.

"No! He went off with Jasper and Tyler and came back lit. I was with the girls."

"I figured."

Thankfully, Edward is still where I left him, but The Gothlet is gone, and Ben and Ang stand on either side of him, doing their best to hide the fact that he's completely plastered.

"Thank God! We had a hell of a time keeping him here," Ang exclaims when she sees me. "He kept wanting to go look for you."

"Edward?"

His head swings up at the sound of his name, and he gives me a lazy, lopsided grin.

" _There_ you are! I miss-s-s-sed you," he slurs, throwing his arms around me.

His weight nearly knocks me over, but I manage to keep us both vertical.

"I missed you too, but we've gotta go now. It's time to go home."

"But I don't wann-n-na," Edward whines, dropping sloppy kisses on my neck. "I think we sh-should—"

"Come on, asshole. You're drunk, and we need to get out of here," Emmett barks, glaring at his brother.

Edward narrows his eyes at Emmett, but I cut him off before he can say anything.

"Emmett's right, Edward, we need to get you out of here. Here, put your arm around my shoulder and I'll help you."

I seal the deal with a kiss, and Edward gives an exaggerated nod.

"Only becaus-s-s-se you as-s-sked me to, Bell-l-l-a. F-f-f-fuck that ass-s-s-s-hole."

Emmett mutters something under his breath and takes off without another word, leaving me to contend with a very unsteady Edward.

"F-f-f-fuck," he mumbles. He's trying to keep pace with me, but his feet don't seem to want to listen to him. "S-s-spinning."

 _Shit. He's either gonna pass out or get sick any minute now; I'm sure of it._

The walk across the parking lot feels like it takes ages, but we make it without running into any of the patrolling teachers.

I help Edward into the car, sliding him over on the seat so I can get in. He looks as if he can barely keep his eyes open, and as soon as I crawl in next to him, he lays his head on my shoulder.

Emmett walks around the car and gets in, slamming the door so hard that Edward and I both jump. He turns around and glares at Edward.

"What the fuck, man? You can't get this drunk on school property and expect no one to notice! You're lucky Bella was here for you to hang on to, otherwise everyone would've known you can't even stand up right now!"

"Can too," Edward says, raising his head to peer blearily at Emmett.

"Forget it, but we're gonna talk about this tomorrow when you've sobered up," Emmett says, the threat clear in his voice.

"F-f-f-fuck you, Em," Edward says dismissively, his head lolling onto my shoulder again.

There's silence in the car for a few moments while Emmett drives toward my house.

Suddenly, he looks back at us in the rearview mirror. "Is he passed out?"

I bend my head to look at Edward, and he does appear to be asleep on my shoulder. "Yeah, I think so," I answer.

"Goddamn son of a—" and the rest is lost under his breath as he shakes his head.

I don't think this was a great idea on Edward's part, but now that we're away from the school and I know he's not going to get caught, I don't really see the harm. Everyone has to have some fun once in a while.

"Oh, come on, Emmett, don't be a killjoy. Cut him a break," I say. "He was just having a little fun."

Emmett shakes his head and grunts. "Yeah, come over tomorrow and watch the seizure he's gonna have to pay for his 'fun,' and then we'll talk about what a killjoy I am."

I freeze. "Oh, shit! Really?"

Emmett sighs. "Every single time. He failed to mention that part, didn't he?"

I nod, stunned into silence. Apparently, telling me what he can and can't do only applies to restrictions he's not planning to ignore.

"Why the hell does he do this, then?" I demand, angry with him now for his recklessness.

"To be like everybody else, I guess. There are so many things he can't do. He was an incredible basketball player in middle school. I guess there's a limit to what he's willing to give up."

"Are you gonna tell your parents?"

"Nah, I'm gonna get him to bed and stick around the house tomorrow," he replies gruffly, looking straight ahead as he drives.

I just nod and am silent for a few minutes, thinking about all the things Emmett does to look out for Edward.

"I'll help you," I say firmly.

Emmett's eyes flick to the rearview mirror. "What?"

"I said I'll help you. I'll tell Edward I don't want him to do this anymore, and try to convince him that it's a bad idea."

"Why?" he asks, dumbfounded.

"What do you mean why? Because I care about him, and I think he needs to take better care of himself. This is too serious for him to fuck around like this."

"Oh," he says, looking distinctly uncomfortable for some reason.

When we get to my house, I lay Edward down across the back seat as I slide out from under him.

"Emmett?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you … please ask Edward to call me tomorrow, if he can? I know he's done this before, but … I can't help but worry."

Emmett gives me a piercing look, then he glances away.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell him."

"Thank you. And … I'm sorry," I say as I shut the door, not sure exactly what I'm apologizing for.

* * *

A/N: Has Em ever known a girl that wasn't shallow? Hmm … Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 17 will post on Monday.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 **You are free to choose, but you are not free from the consequences of your choice.  
\- A Universal Paradox**

 **Edward**

I awaken to the sound of Emmett's voice and his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, you better get your shit together. Mom'll be in here in a minute."

I groan, my head pounding and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My stomach cramps violently, and I roll onto my side, wrapping my arms around myself as sweat breaks out on my forehead. It takes me about ten seconds to realize I'm definitely going to throw up; it's merely a question of when.

I fling the covers off and hurry down the hall, registering Emmett's glare as I pass him. I lock the bathroom door behind me and sink to the floor, trying to will the awful churning in my stomach to stop. As I lay my cheek against the cool tile floor, I hear the conversation outside.

"Where's Edward?" Mom asks Emmett as she stops outside the bathroom door.

"I think he's in the bathroom. I'm not sure he's feeling all right. We came home early last night because he wasn't feeling well—there's some kind of stomach bug going around the school."

I feel like complete and utter shit as I listen to Emmett lie for me. I truly don't understand why he does it. I was stupid, and I'm prepared to take the trouble that comes with it—I always am—but he never lets me. He always covers my ass, and Mom and Dad have never figured it out yet. I have to stop this shit. I know it's not good for me, but somehow, when I go out with Jazz and Tyler and start drinking, it's easy to forget that I'm any different from them—to make believe I'm normal.

"Oh, no!" Mom says. "I hope—"

Whatever else she says is lost to me as my stomach chooses that moment to stage its revolt. I spend the next half hour wishing for death.

When the heaving finally stops, I brush my teeth so Mom won't smell the alcohol on me and stumble back down the hall. She's there waiting at my bedroom door.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry you're not feeling well! Why don't you lie back down, and I'll bring you some water?" she says as she puts her arm around me, guiding me back to my bed.

I lay down and curl up on my side, my head pounding to the rhythm of my too-loud heartbeat. Mom covers me up and smooths the hair back from my forehead, and I wince in response.

"Can you bring me some Tylenol, too?" I know I sound pathetic, but at the moment, that's how I feel, and if Mom wants to baby me today, I'll take it.

"Of course, sweetheart," she replies, the concern on her face and in her voice causing my stomach to twinge in guilt and remorse. She leaves the room, and I close my eyes, wishing with all my heart that it was tomorrow. At that moment, both of my arms twitch violently, warning me that the rest of the day is going to play out exactly as I knew it would. _Goddammit._ As if being hung over isn't punishment enough.

When Mom returns, I'm still having myoclonic jerks, and I see the unshed tears in her eyes as she gives me my Tylenol and pulls my desk chair up next to the bed. I _really_ have to stop this shit.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

My Saturday is basically nonexistent. About an hour after Mom tucked me back into bed, I had the "big" seizure I'd known was coming, and I slept for the rest of the day. On the ironically twisted bright side, at least, I didn't have to deal with the hangover.

When I wake up at almost noon on Sunday, I'm dehydrated and starving, but I feel ten times better than I did the day before. I'm a little shaky until I get some breakfast and Gatorade into me, but after that, I almost feel normal. My headache isn't even as bad as it usually is.

As I'm finishing up, Emmett walks into the room, pours a glass of orange juice, and stands at the counter, just staring at me. He's sizing me up to figure out if I'm okay now; I know it, and he knows I know it. I think about feigning further illness because I know he's just waiting until I'm recovered to lay into me for my adventures on Friday night, but I decide it's time to man up and pay the final piper in the line.

"Go ahead, Emmett. I know you've been waiting," I say, resigned.

He glowers at me and takes a deep breath before he launches in. "Do you have _any_ idea how worried Mom and Dad were about you yesterday? Because you were sick _and_ you had a seizure?"

"No—"

"It lasted longer than usual. Did you know that? It was a full five minutes and they debated on taking you to the fucking ER."

 _Oh fuck, I had no idea yesterday had been worse than any normal seizure day_. I bury my face in my hands.

"This has to stop. You know you can't just go out and tie one on like everybody else and expect to be fine the next day. That's been proven every single fucking time you've done this."

"I know," I mutter into my hands.

"And I'm not going to cover for you anymore. The next time you do this, I'm gonna just let Mom and Dad catch you, and then you'll get grounded on top of all the other shit."

"Fine," I answer a little more loudly.

"Oh, and I called Bella for you yesterday. You were passed out on Friday night when I dropped her off, and she asked me to have you call her to let her know you were okay. Of course, you fucking _weren't_ _okay_ at all yesterday, but I called her and said you were so at least _she_ wouldn't be worried sick about you. God _dam_ mit, Edward, I'm so mad at you right now I could just—" His hands ball into fists as he shakes with anger, but he chokes back the rest of what he was going to say.

Now that rubs me the wrong way. I'm on my feet and in his face before I realize what I'm doing, my hands also clenched into fists.

"You could just what, Emmett?" I snap. "You could just take a swing at me? Well, go ahead! I know I fucking deserve it. Maybe we'd both feel better if you cleaned my clock for me!"

His eyes blaze, but he keeps his fists held tightly to his sides.

"You know I can't do that," he grates out, and knowing the only reason he's holding back makes me even angrier.

"I can't even have my brother kick my ass like a normal kid!" I roar in frustration. My parents both show up in the kitchen then, staring back and forth between us as we glare at each other with flushed faces and trembling fists.

"Emmett," Mom scolds. "What's going on here? Your brother is just getting over being sick—what are you two arguing about?"

I can see Emmett backing down, but I'm getting closer to the boiling point. Of course, they won't get on _my_ case about fighting with Emmett; it's always the other way around.

"It's nothing, Mom. You're right," Emmett agrees. "Edward and I were just having a … discussion, but we're finished now."

I'm literally shaking with anger, but the tiny sliver of reason I have left at the moment tells me that exploding about this isn't going to make things any better. I'll probably trigger another goddamn seizure, and we'll be right back where we started from. I turn on my heel and stomp out of the kitchen and back up to my room. I need to do something to calm myself the fuck down, or I really _am_ going to explode. I look around my room for distraction, but it feels as if the walls are closing in on me. I've been in this room since Friday night. _I need to get the fuck out of here._

Normally, when I need to calm down and get away from my problems, I hang out with Emmett, but obviously, _that's_ out of the question today. I think about calling Jazz, but I'm still feeling off and don't have the energy to do anything physical, or to pretend I'm perfectly fine. My thoughts drift to Bella. We had a good time on Friday night—at least, before I became a stumbling drunk—and she knows all my secrets so I don't have to pretend around her. Hopefully, she's not _too_ mad at me for drinking.

I pick up my phone, knowing I deserve a raft of shit from her too but hoping against hope that I won't get one.

She picks up on the first ring.

"Edward?"

"Hey, Bella."

"Are—are you okay? Emmett said you were, but you never called …"

"I'm okay." _Except for wanting to go taunt my brother until he pounds my ass into the ground, go tell my parents what a dumbass I am and let them ground me, and go just plain fucking insane over all this bullshit I have to deal with._

"Good. I was worried about you."

So was everyone else, but somehow, it means something entirely different coming from Bella. Something that doesn't feel as if it might suffocate me.

I still have no idea how to respond to it, though, so I don't.

"Um … are you busy today? Could we—"

"Do you want me to come over?"

I can hear the eager smile in her voice, but hovering mother plus pissed off brother will most definitely equal Edward losing his cool in a spectacular shit show, and I don't want to put either of us through that.

"Um … not the best idea. I've been in the house since Friday night, and I really need to get out of here. Could you … come pick me up?"

I nearly choke over the words because I _hate_ asking her to come get me, but no one downstairs is gonna do me any favors without questions and bullshit, and I just can't take anymore today.

"Sure. I can be there in a half hour. What do you want to do?"

 _Honestly? I don't give a flying fuck. As long as it has nothing to do with talking about anything that's happened over the last three days._

"I don't … know," I answer, trying to slow myself down. "We can figure it out when you get here."

"Okay, I'll see you soon," she says, and I take what feels like my first full breath since I woke up this morning.

I get ready, then hide in my room until I hear her truck rumbling up the drive. Then I bolt down the stairs, stopping in the living room only long enough to tell Mom and Dad I'm going out.

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough?" Mom calls after me, and I cringe, positively squirming under her overprotectiveness of her seventeen-year-old son, but I grit my teeth and respond that I'm fine, and I'll be back later.

I can't help but smile the moment I see Bella, but it freezes on my face when I hear Mom's footsteps behind me. _Goddammit, she would_ never _chase after Em like this_.

I jump down the porch stairs, and I know I'm running like a bitch, but I can't take one more confrontation today. So I dive into Bella's car like I'm dodging bullets.

"Wha—"

"Just go!" I tell her a little too sharply, but Mom's on the porch now, and I know if we stay here one more second, politeness is going to force Bella to acknowledge her.

Bella hits the gas without another word, and I can literally feel the stress falling away from me as we roll down the driveway. My thoughts tumble over each other, reliving the day and the weekend and … everything that's happened over the past few weeks, but they finally land on dancing with Bella on Friday night. I don't realize how fast I'm breathing until I start to slow down. When I open my eyes to look around, I have no idea where we are.

We're surrounded by woods, and Bella is slowing down as she pulls off to the side of the dirt road.

"Where are we?"

"Logging road," she answers, putting her truck in park and turning toward me. "You seemed like you needed a little time away from everyone."

 _God, I lo—Bella's amazing! How does she know what I need even when I don't have a fucking clue?_

That little voice in my head really wants to analyze my mental stutter over the L-word, but I shove those thoughts away for another time.

"Yeah, I guess so," I admit, playing with a string on the knee of my jeans.

"Rough weekend?"

"I've had worse." _At least, my fucking head isn't killing me today._

"Were you … okay on Friday night?"

Friday night is just a blur of images and feelings—Emmett holding me up as I vomited on the side of the road somewhere, the feel of the leather seat in his car pressed against my cheek, the pain when I slammed my knee into the railing as Emmett tried to all but carry me up the stairs.

"Not really."

"Edward, why did you do that?" Bella asks, her deep brown eyes intent but somehow understanding.

"Lots of guys drink at the dances."

"No, I mean you. Why did _you_ do that, knowing that you'd have a seizure the next day too?"

I purse my lips and huff out a breath, my anger resurfacing rapidly.

"Who the fuck told you that? Emmett?"

"Yes, Emmett because he doesn't understand why you do it either, and he worries about you!"

"He's only worried about me fucking up his plans!"

"You know that's not true," Bella says, and the fact that she's called me on it is the last goddamn straw.

"He should worry about someone else! You both should! _Everyone_ should! I'm _not_ a fucking time bomb, and I'm not a kid who needs to be protected and looked after! I'm just— _fuck_!"

"Hey, _hey_ , whoa!" Bella exclaims. "This isn't the first discussion you've had about this today, is it?"

"No, it's _not_ ," I growl.

"Okay. Okay, I'm sorry. I can see you're already upset, and I don't want to make you feel any worse," she says softly, reaching out and putting her hand on top of mine.

My first instinct is to pull away and snap at her again, but as her fingers make contact with my skin and she strokes across the top of my hand, I close my eyes and feel the anger begin to seep away.

"You need to calm down," she says, the worry plain in her voice. "Being this worked up isn't good for you."

Her comment hits the same nerve that everyone's been on all fucking day. "I … know," I reply from between clenched teeth, trying to breathe more slowly.

"Turn around."

I eye her suspiciously.

"Just trust me," she pleads, twirling her finger. "Now turn around."

I do as she says and sit with my back to her, and she begins to massage my shoulders. She works gently at first, but as my muscles begin to loosen up, she presses more firmly, and a contented sigh rumbles in my chest. Within minutes, I'm a puddle on the seat of her truck, completely relaxed and drowsy.

"Wow, you're good at that," I mumble, my eyes closed and my chin resting on my chest. I hear a soft chuckle from behind me.

"I have many talents."

My mind hits the gutter immediately, and I have to shift on the seat to give my hardening dick room as the image of Bella with her lips on me obliterates all thought.

I giggle like a fucking schoolgirl, and Bella smacks my shoulder.

"Not _that_ kind of talent! Although, maybe …"

I glance over my shoulder, and she's as red as a beet, but she's smirking at me.

"Can I find out if you have that kind of talent?"

"Maybe. But only if you're a _very_ good boy."

 _Whoa._ I think my dick and my brain both said that at once because they're both really impressed—and ridiculously turned on—by how quickly Bella can go from innocent to sexy.

"I'm _always_ good," I tell her, turning on the seat to give her my most charming smile.

"Will you do something for me?" She's all seriousness now, and I try not to let it set me on edge.

"Maybe. What is it?"

"Will you stay with me during the dances and not get drunk with the guys? You were _so_ wasted on Friday night, and I was so scared you were gonna get busted, or have a seizure, or—"

"Bella—"

"Please? I know you just wanna feel normal, but there are other ways—ones that won't kill your weekend and endanger your health and … make me afraid that the first time you meet my dad as my boyfriend, it's gonna be in handcuffs."

I squeeze my eyes shut, but she keeps going, and then her fingers are threaded into the hair on the back of my neck.

"Please?"

When she kisses my lips, I startle, but I can't move away, and I really don't want to.

"I promise." Kiss. "We can find." Kiss. "Other ways." Kiss. "To entertain ourselves."

And suddenly, her tongue is in my mouth, and I pull her close, groaning into the kiss as she damn near straddles me.

"Please?"

I can't help but laugh. "When you put it like that …"

"I do. And I'll put it any way I need to, not to see you so fucked up again."

Some part of me wants to rebel, but, for once, the rational part is stronger. I _know_ I shouldn't be doing that, but the urge to feel normal and the need to defy those who coddle me always wins.

But Bella isn't coddling me.

She's offering me alternatives and— _fuck_ —she's being so cute about it I can't help but be won over.

"All right, all right! You win!" I concede, laughing at the adorable grin that spreads across her face.

"I think we both win," she says, kissing me again, and this time, she has no reason to stop.

My fingers find their way into her hair, and I kiss her with all I have—a silent thank you for somehow knowing exactly how to handle me.

She reaches between us and strokes up my length, but it feels … wrong, and I grab hold of her hand.

"Um … actually, can I touch you instead?"

"Sure, but don't you want—"

"Yeah, I do, but I kind of … can't."

She tilts her head inquisitively. _Oh, fuck, I'm gonna have to explain this. Embarrassment should just be my goddamn middle name._

"The day after a seizure, I'm still not … right. I don't know if it's the headache or something else, but … I can get hard, but I can't—"

I push my fist forward and twist it.

"—yeah."

"Oh … _oh_ ," she says as a blush colors her cheeks.

I feel like a freak and a half at this moment, but Bella doesn't bat an eyelash.

"You still have a headache?"

"Yeah, but it's not too bad."

 _I just told you my dick is broken the day after a seizure, and you're worried about my headache?_

"Maybe you should lie down for a while—"

 _Yup, apparently, you are._ But the embarrassment I was feeling fades as quickly as it came.

"Bella, the absolute _last_ place I want to go right now is home."

She pauses for a moment, then a smile spreads across her face. "Okay, then. How about my house? Dad's working a double today, so he won't be home until midnight."

I can't deny that the idea of lying down for a while is appealing—I'm still feeling pretty off, and it would be great to relax for a while …

… And after we've done that, there are some other things we can do while horizontal, too.

"Okay."

* * *

A/N: Well, well, well. After a rough weekend, maybe Edward will get a happy ending. Teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, and Chapter 18 will post on Monday.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **When you know, you know. And you don't fight it. You don't deny the inevitable. You free fall because you know there's someone there to catch you on the other side.  
—S. L. Jennings**

 **Edward**

We drive to her house, and although Emmett and I have picked her up a few times now, this is the first time she's asked me inside.

I suspect that might have something to do with my pussy-ass fear of shaking Chief Charlie's hand wearing the label of "boyfriend."

 _Fuck off! You'd be afraid too if you knew how fast that man can load a shotgun!_ I wasn't exactly an angel as a pre-teen, and I still have nightmares of that man firing over my head as I ran from … quite a few misdemeanors.

 _There are probably things he'd still like to try to pin on me._

Bella tugs me through the entryway and right into the cozy little living room. I try not to cringe as my gaze lands on the brown leather recliner in the corner that must be the chief's domain.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Sure."

I sit down in the middle of the couch as Bella disappears into the kitchen, taking in the pictures of little girl Bella on the mantle underneath one of the largest fish I've ever seen anywhere, much less hanging on a wall. _Priorities_.

Bella comes back carrying a Coke and a water, and of course, I know which one's for me.

"I thought you might need—"

"Thanks," I answer, taking the water from her hand. I can manage to let her take care of me, but we don't need to talk about it too.

She just smiles and sits beside me, grabbing the remote and switching on the TV.

I drink half of my water bottle, and when I pass it to her to set on the table, she grabs my hand and pulls me, maneuvering us so my head rests in her lap, and I'm spread out across the couch.

She says nothing, she just starts running her fingers through my hair, and I heave a sigh as my shoulders relax. No one's ever done this for me except my mother, and that's a whole different feeling. This? This fills a hole—a _need_ —I didn't even know I had.

And I bask in it.

I close my eyes, not even caring what's on the TV, and I'm drifting when Bella lowers the volume. _I could get used to this. I could …_

I wake with a start, sitting up so quickly I almost hit Bella's chin with my head.

"What the—"

"You were just napping," Bella answers, grinning at me.

I pass a hand over my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. Waking up anywhere but my own house triggers automatic panic that I've had a seizure in public, and that's a tough instinct to get around.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. I just didn't know where I was."

Her hands find my shoulders and begin to massage again, and somehow, the touch telegraphs straight to my dick. I'm hard in an instant, but I don't want her to touch me—I want to touch _her_.

I turn, leaning back and claiming her lips, my arm holding me up as I lean across her.

Her hands find my hair as her tongue thrusts forward, and I moan as my stomach flips and rolls. _How can kissing a girl possibly feel_ this _good?_

I tangle my tongue with hers, feeling the heat and tingling sensation roll up into my chest, and suddenly, this isn't enough.

I pull back and our eyes meet—her gaze is so _hungry_ it makes me breathe a little faster. It makes me want so many things all at once.

My hand slides down to her breast, cupping her softly over her bra, and she releases a slow breath, her eyes closed.

I've never seen a real girl topless, although I've copped my share of feels. To be honest, I've never really wanted to—breasts are cool playthings, but they're a means to an end—a happy ending, if you know what I mean.

But not Bella's.

I want to see hers for some reason. To feel them and to watch as her nipples harden when I—

 _Holy fuck is this easier when my dick isn't dominating the conversation!_

Normally, he's clamoring for his so loudly I can hardly think straight, and I do what I need to in order to get there. But not today. I'm hard as a rock, but the ache isn't there, so I can focus on other things.

I slide from the couch and kneel between her knees. She may not know I'm about to worship her body, but I certainly do—it's nothing I've ever wanted before, and it's both frightening and exhilarating. I place my hand on her stomach, catching the hem of her shirt with my thumb and rubbing it slowly across the bare skin beneath. Her stomach muscles quiver under my touch, and she levels me again with that hungry gaze.

 _Jesus._

I lift up her shirt, and she raises her arms, her smile there but unsure.

 _I'll be gentle, Bella. I promise._

Her shirt is forgotten when my eyes fall on— _holy fuck, they're_ right _there_!

I swallow thickly as my hand hovers over … So. Much. Skin. Her breasts are fucking perfect—I can tell even with her bra still on—and I want … oh, God, I don't think I can wait any longer for what I want.

Although her breasts pull at my fingers like magnets, I manage to slide my shaking hands around her back to free them, stealing second base.

Bella's breath is shaky as she looks downward, but I only have eyes for the delicate pink nipples that are mere inches from my face. The need that wells up inside me is powerful, and as my hands cup that velvet-soft, perfectly shaped skin for the first time, heat flairs in my groin, and I can't hold back a low moan.

I dip my head down and circle one nipple with my tongue, completely unprepared for the rush when she arches her back and thrusts it into my mouth. I suck gently, each pull eliciting a moan from her and a twinge of pleasure deep within me.

"Oh, God, Edward," Bella pants, and I can feel my own heartbeat everywhere, from my fingertips to my fucking titanium dick.

I have never been so turned on in my entire _life_.

I move to her other breast— _Jesus, I can't get enough_ —and she writhes against me, eyes closed, chin thrust out— _holy fuck, look at the perfect line of her neck_.

My hands take the place of my lips, and I move upward, kissing her heaving chest until I reach the junction between neck and shoulder. The hunger is nearly unbearable, and I groan as my lips ravish every inch of warm, supple skin with open-mouthed kisses.

Bella's panting heavily, and as her hands slide down my sides, I have the overwhelming urge to—to—to do something _more_. I move to the base of her neck and suck _hard_ , pulling her skin between my teeth as my dick twitches and pleasure roars through me.

Bella cries out—a mix of pain and pleasure that pulls me out of my lusty haze enough to look up at her.

" _Jesus_ , Edward." Her pupils are so dilated she looks like she's high, and satisfaction surges through me.

That is until I look down at her neck.

The bruise is in the shape of a kiss, a mix of red and purple, and it's not the only one. There are two others—one lighter and higher on her neck, and one lower and an even deeper shade of purple.

 _Holy mother of fuck, I marked her!_

 _Yup, I'm gonna die. Chief Charlie is gonna rip my dick off, feed it to me, then watch me bleed out. Slowly._

 _That's_ just about enough to kill my hard-on. But then again, I _am_ seventeen, and there's a topless girl eighteen inches away from me.

Bella grabs my cheeks with both hands and pulls me forward, ravishing my lips until I can't even remember why I was panicking.

 _Oh, right. I gave Bella a hickey so I'm gonna lose my dicky. Whoa. When did Dr. Seuss become part of this adventure? Maybe I'm the one who's high._

I glance at her neck again.

 _Unless she has a shit-ton of turtlenecks, there's no way I'm getting out of this, so I might as well give us both as much pleasure as I can._

So I dive back in, kissing her until she's writhing against me.

"What time is your dad working until again?" I mumble between kisses. It's hard to think coherently when my head feels like it's floating, but I know this couch is not where I wanna be right now.

"Midnight. He'll be home about one. Why?" Bella asks, clearly irritated that I'm asking banal questions when I should be tongue-fucking her.

"Are you sure?"

" _Yes_."

"Um, do you wanna go upstairs then?"

 _That_ gets her attention.

"Up … upstairs?"

Her eyes widen a bit, the haze of lust diluted by a touch of fear.

"We don't have to … I mean, I just wanna—"

"No, it's okay. I was just … surprised. I—I wanna take you upstairs."

What happens in my middle when she says those words has to be a crime in a few states; it feels that fucking good. I close my eyes and let it wash over me, but the next second, Bella is grabbing my hand and leading me toward the stairs, and I'm grinning like a goddamn idiot.

 _Bloody hell, I wish my little fireman weren't on the fritz. If I don't fuck this up, maybe we can do it again when I can enjoy it like a normal guy._

Even though it feels different, the … need has been building in me until I feel like I wanna crawl out of my own skin.

 _I need to touch her somewhere—everywhere—right the fuck now!_

As soon as we cross the threshold of her room, I spin her around and meld my lips to hers as I back her toward the bed. My hands are everywhere—skimming over her soft, warm skin as the need to be _closer_ pulses through me.

When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she grabs both of my hands and holds them together in front of me.

 _What the fuck? I—I need—_

But as I look into her eyes, I can see the fire there. This isn't over.

Her hands move to the hem of my shirt, and my stomach muscles quiver and tighten.

"Can I … see?" she asks in shy schoolgirl voice, and I'm ready to strip like a fucking porn star.

I grab my shirt and whip it over my head, my hands groping for her jeans before it even hits the floor.

"I wanna touch you. _God_ , can I please touch you?" I pant, completely at the mercy of my own need.

"Yours come off, too," she says, smirking. I think she's just realized exactly how far gone I am.

 _Holy shit, right now, I'd find a way to suck my own dick if it'd make her happy_.

Frantic hands strip us both down to our underwear, and the sight of her little white satin panties and the dark hair underneath pushes me over whatever edge I've been riding.

I pull her close, and we both groan as she melts against my chest.

 _Warm—soft—hot—fuck!_

And suddenly, we're on the bed, and I'm over top of her, plunging my tongue into her mouth as she explores my bare chest.

I roll to the side and grab hold of her, pulling behind her knee until her leg is on top of mine, opening her to me. A shudder rolls through her as I splay my hand on her stomach, my fingers brushing the lace of her panties.

 _This is Red Five. I'm going in._

Hopefully, what happens at the end of this will rival the destruction of the Death Star, and I'll be a fucking hero.

My hand inches downward, and I have to draw a steadying breath when my fingers slide into a bed of soft curls. Bella, however, is not breathing at all—her eyes shut in … Anticipation, I hope!

I graze over her clit, and she jumps, but I know better than to start there. That's where the finish line is. That fuckstick I call a brother did manage to teach me _something_.

So I trace around the edge instead then move in, exploring her folds by touch as she struggles to breathe. She moans when I approach her slit, so I rub in circles there, watching her eyebrows and lips twitch and quiver in pleasure.

She gasps when I enter her with one finger, the sound and feel tightening something deep within me. We both need _more_.

I move my finger out and then in again, and her hips rise off the bed.

"Edward," she whispers between heavy breaths, and the urge to thrust is there, even for my fucking finger.

I add another one and set a rhythm, my fingers becoming slick as she pushes against them, driving me deeper.

"Edward, please," Bella pants, and I know she doesn't even know what she's asking for, but I know how to give it to her.

 _Oh, God, am I gonna enjoy giving it to her._

I curl my fingers just a little bit, and Bella cries out and grabs my bicep.

"What the fuck did you just do?"

"Did you like it?" I ask, smug as the cat that ate the canary. Score another one for "The Fuckstick's Guide to Girls."

"Oh, _fuck_ ," she gasps as I do it again, and I know I've found what I was looking for.

 _Houston, we have a G-spot._

"Don't stop," she pleads, and I am _more_ than willing to accommodate her.

Bella whimpers, eyes closed, her every move in response to my touch.

 _So warm. God, so fucking tight; what will it be like when—_

My dick twitches as if he's trying to pull in her direction, and my teenage-boy, ridiculously vivid, sexual imagination takes over.

As Bella fucks my hand, my own hips move in the rhythm, thrusting forward as I can almost feel all that heat and soft skin surrounding me.

 _Jesus._

I add a third finger—moving a little faster and grazing that magic spot as often as I can.

" _God_ , Edward."

She's bringing out the deities so she must be getting close.

"Edward … so much … I—you—"

 _Now for the finish._

I press down on her clit, and she cries out, fucking my hand in earnest as I make slow circles there.

"Oh, I'm—I—"

Her body tightens on my fingers as she jerks and moans—her orgasm is one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. Her whole body participates, and I want to do it to her again as soon as she'll let me.

 _Damn._

She pants as she comes down, her chest heaving—jiggling those perfect breasts in a way that makes me feel warm just about everywhere.

"Fuck," she mutters.

 _How did I not know how sexy it is when a mostly naked woman curses?_

My balls are so fucking blue, I could trade rocks with a Smurf, and there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it. The ache wasn't there before, but it sure as hell is now, and I have no idea how to ease it.

Bella's brilliant smile pulls me out of my penis pity party, and I know it was worth it, despite my aching dick.

Her lips are frantic as she kisses my throat, and before I can even think to stop her, she reaches down and cups my sac.

"Fucking Jesus!" _Holy fuck—so sensitive—I can't_ —more!

"Are you okay?"

"Roll them. _Please._ Roll them in your hand."

I gasp out the words because my brain just exploded. I've never felt anything that fucking good in all my life.

Bella does, and I think I black out for a second. My balls feel like two grenades with the pins pulled. It's only a matter of time.

I thrust my balls into Bella's hand as the pressure mounts, and she's rolling and squeezing and— _Oh, God, I'm gonna fucking explode—_

"Bella … fucking Christ!" My balls turn inside out, and I spurt and spurt, holding on to Bella as if my life depends on it. The pleasure is so intense but in different places than usual, and I moan and whimper like a twelve-year-old having his first orgasm. But fuck, I can't help it—it's _never_ felt like this before.

Shivers roll through me as I come down—the after effects of a ridiculous adrenaline rush. I feel utterly spent, but my dick is like a fucking lightning rod, still tingling and slightly erect.

Bella's eyes are wide as saucers. "Wow. I thought you said you couldn't—"

"I never have," I pant out, still trying to catch my breath. _Holy fucking hell, what just happened?_

"Umm … well … I think you came," Bella says, giggling.

 _Okay, I guess I said that out loud._

"You did."

 _Jesus, Edward, get a grip!_

That one stays in my head, and I shake it to try to bring back my sanity. Now I have intimate knowledge of the meaning of the phrase "mind-blowing orgasm."

"Everything okay?" Bella asks, her smirk slipping a little when it takes me a moment to respond.

"Yeah, I—" _jizzed my brains out. "_ I'm just a little … Wow."

"I'll say, wow. You didn't come like that on Friday."

 _I've_ never _come like that—not even close; not since I popped my porpoise-pounding cherry anyway._ "It felt really … different."

"But good?"

"Amazing." _First good thing to come out of my epilepsy—pun totally intended._

"I did that," Bella says, an adorable smile of accomplishment on her face.

 _Christ, she's cute when she's proud of herself._

"Yes, you did," I affirm, pulling her down for a kiss, but she stops a few inches from my chest.

"Um …"

It takes my still-addled brain a moment, but her downward glance helps draw my eyes to the warzone of come splattered on my chest. _Oops. Damn, is there anything still left in there? Is that the inside of my left nut lying on my chest? Ew._

I try to get up, but Bella's off the bed and handing me tissues before I can get anywhere near vertical. _It's probably better this way—come isn't nearly as awesome running down your chest as it is shooting from your dick._

My cheeks heat as I clean myself up, but I'm so mellow I can't muster the energy to get bent about it.

I spy her trashcan by the dresser, so I drag my lazy ass off the bed to dispose of my attempt to populate the world by mating with my chest hairs. _Holy shit, that was a lot of come! Why didn't I pay attention in health when we went over how long it takes those little fuckers to respawn? Little did I know that tidbit would be crucial someday._

But all thoughts of spooge spawn leave my head as I turn around—Bella is still lying on her bed, naked except for that little white triangle over my new favorite hangout. _God, she's beautiful._

Her eyes drink me in, and my dick twitches, even though I know there's no way he's ready for round two. It's just that hot to have her stare at me like … like she's in the desert, and I'm the first water she's seen in days. Like she wants to suck every last drop out of my—

Suddenly I'm across the room and my tongue is in her mouth, and we kiss and kiss, and it's hot but no longer desperate. It's fulfilling another need now—the need to be close and to feel … loved.

The word skitters across my mind, and I run from it, losing myself in the feel of her lips, the swipe of her tongue.

Eventually, we slow down to just soft kisses until she falls asleep, her head resting on the arm I have around her. There's a blanket folded at the bottom of her bed, so I snag it carefully with my feet and cover both of us.

As I watch her breathe in and out softly, I know I can't run anymore. The realization is quiet—not at all the trumpets and fanfare I thought big moments in your life were supposed to be. But it's quite possibly the best I've ever felt as the truth warms and consumes me.

I'm in love with Bella Swan.

* * *

A/N: Aww, Edward. Love changes everything, doesn't it?

If you're in my Facebook group, you've already known this for a few weeks, but for those of you who aren't: I will be taking a break in posting Skin Deep after this chapter. I close on a new house on Friday and am moving at the end of the month, and I started a new job a few weeks ago. The combination of the two (and a few other issues) has prevented me from writing for a while, and the posting has almost caught up to where I'm writing. I'm just not in the Skin Deep head space right now, and I know if I force it, it's gonna be crap. That's not fair to the story, to me, or to you, so I'm going to pause here until I can get back to the writing and do it justice. I have a track record for finishing my stories, and the outline for this one has been complete for almost three years, so please don't be afraid I won't finish it. I'll be back here as soon as I can because this is truly my happy place. Thank you for sticking with me, and for understanding.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn't one.  
\- Margaret Atwood**

 **Edward**

I watch her sleep, and it's a religious experience. My finger hovers over her eyebrow—I want to trace it, but I'm afraid I'll wake her up. And her eyelashes are so long. Are all girl's eyelashes that long? I've never been this close long enough to notice. Her nose is adorable. She wrinkles it like a bunny in her sleep—the same way she does when I do something and she doesn't understand my reasoning. I wonder if she's solving math problems in her dreams or some shit.

And her lips … they're just so … fuck, all I know is I wanna kiss them all the time. I've never been in love with a girl before, but I know that's what this is—it has to be. It's the most intense feeling I've ever had, and I'm still in shock that I'm feeling it. It feels so … _good_ , and nothing has really felt good in so long.

And suddenly, I'm afraid. What if it doesn't last? What if she doesn't feel the same about me? I mean, I know she likes me, and she wants to be my girlfriend, but does she feel … _this_? And if she does, what does that mean? In the midst of all the fucked up shit that is my life, can I still have this? Can I just … _be_ with her and stop being the asshole I've been for so long? What will the consequences be, and can I accept them? Or will protecting myself stand in the way? If it came down to it, would I choose her or keeping my secret?

"What is it?"

I startle when Bella touches me—her hand gently cradles my cheek, and I realize I'm hyperventilating and sweating.

 _Too many things, there's just too much …_

I close my eyes and focus on breathing.

 _Get a grip, Edward. One thing at a time._ And as I repeat that to myself, and Bella's soft fingers stroke my cheek, the racing in my mind slows down, and I breathe slowly and evenly.

When I open my eyes, Bella's watching me, her brow furrowed. _You're going to have to give her some kind of explanation._

And so I lie because I can't even begin to sort out what just happened in my head, much less explain it to anyone else—least of all to _her_.

"Bad dream. I guess we both fell asleep," I say, smiling and placing my hand over hers on my cheek. "I just needed a minute to get out of my head."

She breathes out a sigh, and I know I'm off the hook … this time.

"We did," she murmurs, and the smile that lights up her face warms my heart and seems to lighten the load.

My stomach rumbles, and I'm mortified, but Bella just giggles. I need to get home in time for dinner, or Mom's likely to have a bird.

"I … uh … only had a late breakfast. I should probably head home."

Bella's face falls, and I realize that she'll be home alone for dinner and for the rest of the evening. _I wonder how often Charlie has to work late?_ But I can't invite her over—not tonight. The Emmett glare-a-thon will go on until at least tomorrow, and Mom … fuck, Mom's gonna follow me around like I'm a toddler until I escape to my room. Yeah, _not_ how I want Bella to see my family in action.

"I'm sorry, Bella. Tonight's not really a good night—"

"No, don't worry. I can fend for myself. I usually do," she says quickly. "You should go home—get some more rest before school."

I pull her to me and kiss her, hoping my lips can convey my thanks and my love and whatever the hell else I'm feeling that I'll never find words for.

She pulls away long before I want to be done, but then again, I could probably kiss her forever.

"You should go," she repeats, although her eyes are saying something else entirely.

 _There will be other days_ , I tell myself because even though she's covered with the blanket I threw over us, I know what's under there, and what's not, and I just want to pull it back and start all over again.

I reluctantly haul myself up to sit on the side of the bed, and her hand runs down my back. A shiver rolls through me, and I'm hardening again just thinking about being inside her, about sitting here naked afterward instead of in my boxers … So _not helping_.

My jeans are below me so I snatch them up and slip them on before gathering Bella's clothes and my shirt from the floor.

When I turn, Bella's still lying in bed just watching me, the sheet tucked under her armpits so it covers her breasts. _Shy schoolgirl again. Unf._

She blushes as she takes her things, putting her sweater on sans bra, and crawling out of bed and into her jeans with as little skin visible as possible. _Bella, you're killing me._

But my libido dies as my eyes fall on her neck, and I remember my fate once Chief Charlie sees my handiwork. _Oh, fuck me running, I forgot I don't have long to live … that is, if Bella doesn't kill me first._

"Um … Bella?" I say, putting my arms around her and giving her a hug, in case it's my last opportunity. That and I can't bear to look her in the eye when I tell her that I hoovered her.

"I … kind of got a little carried away when I was kissing you."

She pulls back and looks at me in confusion, and my eyes shoot down to my socks. _Maybe I should have put my shoes on first, in case I need to run for my life._

"What do you mean?" She's gone completely still.

"Um … go look in the mirror."

I stand rooted to the spot and flinch when she exclaims, "shit!" _Yup, Charlie will only need to dispose of the body._

"Ed _ward_!"

She turns to me, eyes wide, but I think there's a smile playing at her lips.

"I'm sorry! I just … wanted … and … and you were _naked_ … and I've never even _been_ in a girl's room before …"

I grunt when her body slams into me, but her lips start to devour me before I can figure out what's going on. _Who cares what's going on? You're still alive, and she's kissing you!_

She stops two-point-five seconds before I'm going to moan from the pleasure, planting a kiss on my nose as I pant for breath.

"You're lucky I stocked up on turtlenecks as soon as I got to Washington, _and_ that I have good foundation."

I don't know what the second one is, but thank fuck for turtlenecks.

We chat about school as she drives me home, but as we pull up my driveway, my eyes are drawn to her neck, and I almost feel guilty. Almost.

"I really _am_ sorry," I tell her, dropping my chin and giving her my best pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

"I'll let it slide this time," she says with a grin. "But next time, let's keep the marks below the neckline, hmm?"

My eyes damn near bug out of my head. _Does she mean I get to suck on—_

"I have teeth too, you know."

I know it's meant to scare me, but the idea of sucking on her tits and her putting _anything_ of mine in her mouth has me so turned on I can hardly see straight.

"I need to go," I stammer like the sex-starved heathen I am.

"Yes, you do," she answers, smirking at me. _God, I love it when she turns sassy._

"And I'm going to stay in the car to make sure you make it to the front door."

 _Does she know I've been fantasizing about pushing her up against her truck and putting my hands up her sweater ever since she put it on?_

I glance at her chest, and her grin widens. _Yup, she knows._

"Okay," I say, defeated.

"I'll see you in the morning, Edward."

I open the door, but I pause, remembering how this day went from shit to awesome, all because of her.

"Today was great."

"Yeah, it was."

I slam the door of her truck and watch as it rumbles down the driveway until I can't see it anymore. Then I check my watch. _It's ten of five—I'm sure I can jack off at least once before Mom can get dinner on the table._

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

Mom wakes me in the morning because Emmett's still being a fuckface, and we avoid each other entirely until we have to get in the car together.

I opt to stare out the window, hoping he'll just leave me alone.

"Can we talk?"

 _So much for that._

"Didn't we do enough of that yesterday?" I snap, totally not in the mood to rehash the argument.

"I'm serious, Edward."

I huff in exasperation. "So am I."

"Look, I'm sorry for going off on you. I just … You scared us, okay? Your seizure didn't seem like it was gonna stop, Mom was crying, Dad even looked worried, and I stood there knowing you'd brought the whole damn thing on yourself! You're not the only one who gets frustrated sometimes, okay?"

He's frustrated. _He's_ frustrated? At least a dozen nasty comebacks are on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them all back.

 _I made Mom cry._

Before I can gather my scattered thoughts into some semblance of an apology, he goes on.

"But that's not what I want to talk about. I wanna talk about Bella."

Every single muscle tenses and my stomach does a nervous roll. _I'm not gonna like this._

"What about her?" I ask, trying to keep from snapping at him.

"She … Edward, she really cares about you."

I close my eyes and let the warm, fuzzy feeling fill me for a second.

"So?"

"So? Aren't you dating her so she'll keep your secret? This was supposed to be casual, and she was supposed to get bored with you after a while, but I don't see that happening."

 _Shit. I'm not ready to talk about this yet. I'm barely even ready to think about yesterday's emotional epiphany._

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I don't know that I'm dating her so she'll keep my secret anymore. I mean … not only for that reason."

Emmett's eyes widen a little, but he just stares at me. I look away, unable to stand the scrutiny while this is so new and … unreal.

"Holy fuck, you've got it for her too. Never in a million years did I think—"

"Why not?" I snap. "She's … amazing. She's beautiful, and my … problems don't seem to bother her, and—"

"Not that. She seems like a nice girl. I just mean … you. You've never let anyone get close to you since … all this happened, and you've pushed a lot of people away."

I wish I could say he's wrong, but we both know he isn't. But Bella …

"She's … different."

"Yeah, she is. And that's why you've got to tell her how this all started."

"What? No!" A shiver of panic shoots down my spine. _Holy mother of_ fuck _no_!

"Edward—"

"She'll—no, she'll dump me! I can't tell her I started dating her just to keep her quiet! Why the _fuck_ would I do that?"

"What if she finds out and you're not the one to tell her? What will she say then?"

"She won't find out. Why would she? Only you and I really know why. No one's ever found out my other secret. I can keep this one too."

"I don't know, Edward. This seems … wrong now, somehow. She could get hurt—you _both_ could get hurt—"

"No one is going to get hurt," I snap, cutting him off, but inside, I'm panicking.

 _No! I can't take the risk of her leaving me! Not now that I finally have something … some_ one _who makes me happy! Not now that I … love her._

"It'll be fine, Em. I can handle it."

Emmett just shakes his head. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I do. I promise."

But I'm shaky and lightheaded when I get out of the car. I can't go into school feeling like this.

There's nowhere secluded out front, so I end up going into the building and ducking into the bathroom on the freshman end of the hall. Thankfully, no one's in there.

I go into a stall, and as soon as I close the door, I grasp the top of the partition with both hands for support, leaning my forehead against the cool metal of the makeshift wall.

 _I can't deal with this. I can't lose her. There's so much—I already have too much—I have to do anything and everything I can to keep this, to keep_ her _. I_ have _to._

A locker door slams, and I come back to myself. I have no idea how long I have until the first bell, but it can't be very long.

I can't lose her, so I do the only other thing I _can_ do—convince myself I can keep this secret too.

 _It'll be fine. I'm good at keeping secrets. She'll never find out, and it'll be as if it never happened_. I'm _gonna forget it ever happened_. _I have to._

 _It never happened. I'm good at keeping secrets. I'm dating her because I'm in love with her._

 _It never happened. I'm good at keeping secrets._

 _It never happened._

After a few repeats, I'm calm enough to head down the hall. First bell already sounded, but Jasper is waiting at my locker, as usual.

 _Okay, Edward, keep it together._

"Where'd you go on Friday night, man?" he asks, leaning against the wall as I toss my shit inside. _Friday? Fuck, that was ages ago. So much has happened since then._

But that's the last thing anyone at school knows other than Bella and Emmett. No one has any clue I vomited my guts out, had a seizure, nearly went three rounds with my brother, fondled Bella's tits and gave her a few hickeys, had a life-altering orgasm, and fell in love.

 _I need to save some shit for eighteen. At this rate, there'll be nothing left for me to do._

"I … um, had a little too much. I was really fucked up when we got back, and Bella and Emmett got me out of there before I could get busted."

"No shit, you had too much! I told you to lay off the tequila, but Tyler kept egging you on, and you just kept taking shots."

I wince at the word "tequila"—I remember more from when it came back up than when it was going down. _Ugh. Yuck._

I do remember feeling like I needed to rise to Tyler's challenges. To prove I was just like everybody else.

"It was a dumbfuck thing to do. Sometimes, I just get carried away, I guess."

"Were you okay the next day?"

"Yeah, fine." _Assuming that the new definition of fine involves vomiting profusely and having an extended-length seizure._

"Good," he says, clapping me on the shoulder.

"So what did you do? Did you stay at the dance?"

Jasper's eyes shoot downward for a second, and then he glances up slowly. _Hold up; is his face turning red?_

"Yeah, I stayed," he replies, and the shit-eating grin that spreads across his face tells me everything I need to know.

" _Oh._ So who was the lucky—"

The bell rings, and Jasper just smirks at me, taking off down the hall.

 _Smug fucker. I wonder whose pants he was in? I'll get it out of him later._

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I duck into homeroom just before the final bell, and I immediately look for Bella. Our eyes lock, and I can see the relief wash over her—her whole body seems to sag with it.

 _Dammit, I bet she thought it was a seizure day, and she was already worrying about me. I should try not to be late for homeroom so I'm not freaking her out all the time._

I want nothing more than to run to her, hold her, and ask if she'll stay with me forever, no matter what, but I know I can't do that. Mostly because we're in the middle of a classroom full of nosy assholes, but also because I'd sound like a clingy, co-dependent stalker, and she'd make me explain why I said it.

She smiles at me, and I breathe a little easier as I smile back. _It's okay. She cares about me and nothing bad is gonna happen._

Now that I'm over my "Cable Guy" moment, I notice she's wearing a turtleneck that goes all the way up to her chin. I smirk as memories of yesterday flood through me, and I stroke my throat as I walk to my seat.

Bella blushes beautifully, but she smirks right back as she plays with the neckline of her sweater. She pulls it down a little, and I see a flash of creamy white skin still bearing my mark. Heat flairs in my groin and spreads outward, and this feeling of—pride?—blooms in my chest, and it's so strong that I want to beat on it. Me, Tarzan. You, girl I wanna carry around and beat other men with stick if they get too close. _But, fuck, that's hot. I never knew marking a girl could make you feel so … powerful._

I shake my head to clear it because I know I'm acting like a first-rate Neanderthal, and my dick is already at half-mast, and I don't wanna be in the bathroom blowing a load before first period. But I know every time I look at her today, I'm gonna focus on that turtleneck and what's underneath it. _It's gonna be a long fucking day. I hope my dick doesn't chafe._

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I'm at my locker before lunch when the hammer I'd forgotten about since Friday finally decides to fall.

I jump as my locker door bangs shut, and as I'm hauled upward, I have the presence of mind to lean my head forward so my shoulders take the brunt of the impact from the lockers behind me.

"We missed you at lunch on Friday, Edward. What the hell are you doing hanging with the scrubs?"

Mike's breath is hot on my face, and I have no idea how I'm getting out of this one. _Fuck._

Suddenly, Mike and I are both flying sideways, and he lets go just before I hit the ground. I break my fall with my arms, again saving my head from impact, and I scramble to my feet to see Jasper and Mike toe to toe.

"Fuck off, Mike! Edward can do whatever the fuck he wants!"

 _Shit. Shit!_ Shit! _I have to keep this from turning into a fight!_

"Fuck off, Jasper! This has got nothing to do with you! Eddie and I are gonna have a talk about his new little whore."

"Fine, talk," Jasper says, getting right up in Mike's face. "But you're gonna have to talk to both of us because _I'm_ not leaving!"

Mike looks around, and although we've drawn a crowd, Tyler and Austin aren't among them.

"Fuck you both, then! Wherever I am, you better both be fucking somewhere else!" Mike yells, shoving Jasper and stalking down the hall.

I grab Jazz before he can give chase, and although he struggles a bit, I know he's only blowing off steam.

"Goddamn motherfucking asshole," Jazz mutters, breathing hard, and now that I have a moment to think, I'm kind of shocked he stood up for me. We used to be tight, but ever since things changed for me …

"Thanks, Jazz," I say, gripping his shoulder. And for the first time in a while, I really look him in the eyes, meaning it.

"Bella seems nice," Jazz says, shrugging. "And I'll be damned if Mike is gonna tell anyone who to date with the way he sticks his dick in every hole he can find."

I'm still shaken up, but I can't help but laugh.

"That fucker would nail farm animals if they'd stay still long enough."

"I heard he nailed Mary Smithers last weekend—that's close enough."

Jazz cracks up, and the tension that's been between us seems to ease a little bit.

We head for the cafeteria, but he stops me before we get to the top of the stairs.

He looks down again, shoving his hands in his pockets and finding his shoes suddenly fascinating.

"Can I, um … sit with you guys today?"

I can understand why he'd want to after what just happened with Mike, but why the fuck is he asking me, looking like—

"No!" I gasp. There's only one girl at Bella's table who's not spoken for.

Jasper grips the back of his neck.

"Did you _see_ what she was wearing Friday night?"

"Of course, I did, but she's a fucking crazy ass demon midget! Damn, Jasper! I bet your beer goggles would turn a pig wearing lipstick into Katy fucking Perry!"

"Fuck off, Edward! I just got done defending _your_ choice of girl! And I … saw her again on Saturday, so it wasn't just the alcohol talking."

"You—" _Holy fucking shit, he's serious!_

"She really _is_ nice once you get to know her," Jazz goes on, oblivious to my state of shock.

"I'm pretty sure she wants to knife me!"

"Nah. Well, maybe if you fuck Bella over. Tough girls are kinda … sexy."

"Um … okay," I stammer, still trying to wrap my mind around the thought of Jasper and Gothzilla. I wanna razz him some more, but he _did_ just help me out of a tight spot, and more time will give me the chance to come up with better insults.

I follow him into the caf, shaking my head, and gather my lunch on autopilot. Things had been the same for so long, and now it feels like everything is changing: someone other than family knowing about my condition, my feelings for Bella, the sudden instability in predicting my seizures, and now all these changes in social shit—Dad's gonna notice how quickly the Xanax is disappearing, I just know it.

I'm lost in my own head until we get to the table, but then, things get too fucking weird not to pay attention.

Alice levels me with her usual glare as I approach, but when she sees who's behind me, her eyes widen, and it's as if I suddenly don't exist. The goddess of Goth, the sovereign of switchblades, is blushing like a fucking schoolgirl. At a boy.

I honestly thought she was asexual. Or attracted to zombies or some shit. She's always _so_ out there, but right now, she's acting just like … Bella does.

 _Wow. She might actually be a human …_ and _a girl._

 _I don't know how much more of this shit I can take._

* * *

A/N: Here we go again! Life is settled down, things are mostly back to normal, and Gorgeousward and Sassyella are talking to me again! Woohoo! So, the plan, for now, is to post every two weeks, and I will _try_ to keep up with this schedule. I'm some chapters ahead, but I'm not finished writing—honestly, I miss the group, I miss the reviews, I miss interacting with you guys and I'm hoping that by getting back in touch with you all, the muse will stay active. So get back on the train with me—I will _never_ abandon a story! See you in two weeks!


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

" **The reason as to why we are attracted to our opposites is because they are our salvation from the burden of being ourselves."  
― Kamand Kojouri**

 **Bella**

As Edward's house disappears into the trees, my chest expands like a balloon, and it's hard to get air around it. I think my face is gonna split, my smile is so wide. Holy fuck, what a day! I know it's not possible, but I still feel like there's tingling between my legs. Edward was my first! Well, not _that_ first, but my first orgasm, anyway. I hope I was cool about it. Was I cool? Or did I make those chipmunk noises like Rosalie?

I shudder at the thought, but fuck it, I don't care. It was amazing and fantastic, and I want him to do it again. Practice makes perfect, right? I wonder how many practice sessions it'll take until I sound like one of those porn girls?

And he seemed to enjoy what I did to him, even though it was a bit … different.

 _Holy mother of fuck, I've never seen that much jizz come out of a guy before!_ _Not even in those videos we used to watch at slumber parties in Arizona! I bet you could have populated a third world country with everything that came out of there—I wonder how long it'll take for him to make more?_

I giggle at the thought—some crew in Edward's junk is going to be working overtime tonight.

But, God, he was so sweet and so affectionate and so _into_ me today. Could he really be faking it? He definitely was _not_ faking it when he marked me—you don't consciously put a mark on the daughter of the man with the most guns in town unless you have a death wish. And having your balls shot off has to be one of the most painful ways to go—no guy would choose that, even if they _were_ suicidal.

My fingers stray to my neck, and my smile turns into a smirk. Edward claimed me tonight. I don't know what it means, and I don't know for how long, but I feel like I'm _his_ now, in whatever way he wants me. Well, except maybe one. Although if he keeps touching me like he did today and being so honest and gentle … I'll save that thought for another day. Right now, I have to figure out if Grandma Swan has anything with a Victorian neckline and if I can convince Charlie that vintage pajamas are in.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

"Wow, Bella, that's a really pretty turtleneck," Angela says as we sit down at the lunch table on Monday, and I don't miss the smirk and the elbow that are thrown her way by The Gothlet.

We've actually made it to lunchtime before anyone, other than Edward, has commented about my choice of attire for today—that's pretty good, considering I've never worn a turtleneck to school before.

"I'm always cold," I offer, but as their grins widen, I know they're on to me.

"Oh, I bet your neck was _plenty_ warm sometime in the last twenty-four hours," The Gothlet says, and the sudden heat in my cheeks all but confirms it.

They both giggle, and Ang clutches The Gothlet's shoulder. _Oh, God, what grade are we in?_ So I try to blow it off.

"Edward may have … gotten a little carried away last night. So what? Hasn't Ben ever done that to you, Ang?"

Angela's eyes go wide, and she shakes her head slowly. _Oh, fuck._ But The Gothlet is fascinated.

"Is there a bruise? Can we see?" she asks eagerly, and the light in her eyes positively freaks me out.

"No!"

"Oh, come on, Bella! I've never had one before! Inquiring minds wanna know what it's like to have your boyfriend go vampire on you."

Her eyes are still a little too crazed for comfort, but I _am_ a little bit smug about the fact that Edward lost control enough to leave marks on me. Although, I would _never_ admit that to The Gothlet.

I pull the neck of my sweater down and turn my head to the left, and the gasps let me know I've pulled it down far enough.

"Shit, Bella! Did your dad see those?" Angela asks.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I'd be sitting here right now?"

"No, you'd be at Edward's funeral," The Gothlet says, raising her hand as if to touch my neck but stopping in mid-air. "Damn, that's … hot."

A squicky shiver rolls through me—The Gothlet finding anything about my relationship with Edward hot, given what I know of her taste, is definite cause for alarm … and nausea.

The conversation abruptly ends as Ben and Eric sit down, and I adjust my sweater, hoping they didn't see anything. The last thing I need is those two razzing me when Edward shows up.

Speaking of Edward, he looks ridiculously hot in his t-shirt and hoodie today, but he seemed … distracted in biology. As if something important was on his mind. Just like he is now, in fact, as I watch him approach our table, until his eyes widen as if one of us has sprouted another head.

Edward's gaping at The Gothlet, but she's not looking at him, she's staring at … Jasper? He's just behind Edward, and _he_ only has eyes for The Gothlet. Ooey-gooey, lovey-dovey, great big heart-y eyes. He looks like a goddamn cartoon character, and she's _blushing_. I honestly thought she had ice water or antifreeze in her veins for how pale and sickly she looks at times, but that's not nearly as surprising as the fact that she's blushing over _Jasper_. _What the fucking fuck?_ The apple in my hand falls to my tray with a clunk, and everyone at the table who wasn't already watching this spectacle now gets a clue.

Edward doesn't say anything; he just moves out of the way so The Gothlet and Jasper can better eye-fuck each other.

"Hi," Jasper says as if The Gothlet is the only person within a hundred miles.

"Hey," she answers, still blushing, but now a grin threatens to split her cheeks.

Jasper shuffles his feet. "I thought maybe I could—"

"Oh, sure …"

Jasper glances around the table, but the only empty seats are the one next to me, which is obviously for Edward, and the two chairs between Ben and Edward, across the table from The Gothlet.

The Gothlet turns to Eric and barks, "Move!" and Eric is so startled, he falls out of the chair backward, right next to me.

The Eyes of Sauron disappear as quickly as they came, and The Gothlet actually _primps_ her hair as she looks back toward Jasper.

"Here's a seat right next to me."

No one moves, including Jasper, and The Gothlet gives an exasperated huff that seems to start time again.

"What? Doesn't anyone want lunch?" she demands, her cheeks still splotched with crimson.

Edward and Jasper slide into their seats, and Eric picks himself up off the floor, scowling as he grabs his tray and takes the seat next to Ben.

And the most awkward silence in the history of awkward silences descends as we all stare at each other.

"So … um, did anyone finish their essay for English yet?" Angela asks, and that breaks the bubble and gets conversation flowing again.

It takes me a minute, but I realize Edward is still staring at The Gothlet with his mouth open, so I bump his leg as discreetly as I can. He startles, and I'm not sure if he was "absent" or just still dumbfounded by the turn of events. He shakes his head and joins the present, but as the conversation continues, he sneaks a hand under the table and rests it on my knee. The touch sends a shockwave through me, and _I_ leave the present to go back to yesterday in my room and all the ways he touched me. _I wonder if he'd be interested in a little detour after school._

Just the thought of being alone with him again is enough to warm parts of me that have no business heating in the cafeteria—that and the fact that his hand is slowly moving north. I place both hands on my thighs, effectively stopping him, and Edward gives my knee a squeeze and smirks at me. _Dammit, that ass knows exactly what he's doing to me. If I could reach over and grab his dick right now without being noticed, I'd do it in a heartbeat._

"How about you, Bella?" Ben asks, and the bell saves me from having to admit that I was fantasizing about hobbing Edward's knob. _I don't know how we're going to make it through school every day without spontaneously combusting in a freaking bonfire of lust._

But, at the moment, I have more important matters to attend to—giving The Gothlet an unholy raft of shit during study hall.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

Edward holds my hand until he drops me at my locker, and I lose track of Jasper and The Gothlet. She hurries into study hall after Ang and I are already in our seats, and she's much more out of breath than I would expect her to be for just coming from her locker to the classroom. _Holy fucking hell—when did all this happen?_

I stare her down from the moment she enters the room, a shit-eating grin on my face, and I can tell by the flick of her gaze to anywhere but me that she can feel it.

And I wait.

After a few minutes, she begins tapping her pen on her notebook, and I know I'm getting to her. Ang is grinning from ear to ear, just watching, knowing that any moment now, The Gothlet is going to lose her shit.

And she doesn't disappoint.

She stills, takes a deep breath, and projectile word-vomits the whole story all over me.

"We hooked up on Friday night after you left the dance, all right? He was drunk, I may have joined him out in the bush for a shot or two, and then …"

She stops and her eyes glaze over, and I briefly debate if I really want her to continue. _Oh yes, yes I do, for the sheer satisfaction of watching her blush and squirm the way she's made me do over Edward._

"And then?"

"And then we made out and humped each other like wild baboons in heat."

 _Wow, now there's a picture._

The Gothlet stares me down, challenging me to comment, but I'm still gathering details.

"Did you do it?"

Her expression turns thoughtful.

"Nah. We just got each other off with our clothes on. But we could have done so much more."

Full. Stop.

Her idea of more will likely gross me out, or scare the hell out of me, or both.

"So let me get this straight. You and Jasper got drunk and juiced each other's fruits, so now he's your boyfriend? After one drunken finger-fuck session?"

"Well …"

My eyebrows fly up, and The Gothlet's cheeks flush crimson as she shifts in her seat. _Gotcha! Being put on the spot it's so much fun, is it?_

"Well?"

"Well … we may have spent half of Friday night on the phone sobering up, and then he came over to my place on Saturday."

 _Holy shit, she's serious about this! She saw him sober and didn't threaten to cut his balls off for touching her!_

"Wow," Ang declares, her eyes as wide as I'm sure my own are.

"Wow is right! Don't you think he looks like Martin Gore?"

"The singer from Depeche Mode?" I ask, trying to keep up.

"Yes! Is there another one?" The Gothlet snaps. Then her eyes glaze over again. "That curly blond hair and those piercing hazel eyes! He even plays the guitar! Did you know that?"

"I had no idea," I deadpan.

"Well, he does! And he's hot as fuck and he's mine now," The Gothlet declares with a nod of her head, and suddenly, her eyes go all dreamy. "I wanna put a collar on him and get him some black leather."

Ang gasps, and I think I do too.

 _Oh, my God, I will_ never _be able to un-see that mental image._ And I don't think I'll ever be able to look at Jasper again without either laughing my ass off or becoming nauseous. I hope that boy knows what he signed up for.

The Gothlet ignores our reactions, only blushing the slightest shade of pink over her Goth porn TMI.

"And now that we each have a boy, we can all go out together."

"Ooo, we can!" Ang squeals. "I've never gone on a triple date before!"

I smile at both of them, but I have a sneaking suspicion Edward isn't going to like this.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The week passes quickly now that the new world order has been established. Jasper and The Gothlet hang all over each other at every opportunity while the rest of us try not to vomit. As the days go by, it gets easier, though—like a wart on your finger. You know it's there, you hate to look at it, but it becomes something you tolerate until you can figure out how to get rid of it, or it just goes away. Maybe they'll be easier to stomach after they get through the love-muffin phase.

Jasper also sits with The Gothlet at lunch every day, which has made Edward and me a permanent fixture at the lunch table as well. Edward has been hanging with Jasper all week, and Ken Doll and his band of bastards haven't come near any of us. Resting Bitch Face still scowls at me when the mood strikes her, and she gives Edward disgustingly sweet smiles that make me want to spork her eyes out, but even she's kept her distance. Maybe they _will_ let Edward and Jasper go without a fight. Holy mother of fuck, I hope so because Edward could really use a break.

I don't know if it was our weekend or Jasper or what, but something's changed with Edward. He's … happier. He walks me to every class, whether he's in it with me or not, and he has this adorable habit of turning up when I'm at my locker and hanging onto the door as he deftly snakes an arm around my waist. And that, of course, puts my lips right at his neck, and there's nothing that compares with the feeling that surges through me when he goes boneless against me as I nibble at that spot about an inch below his ear.

And there's no more hanging out in the library. We either go to his house or mine—and I have to admit I like it better when we go to mine—Charlie never gets home before six. So Edward and Charlie still pass like ships in the night, but one day soon, we'll have to remedy that. I don't think Edward's looking forward to it.

We spend school evenings apart—we both have homework, neither one of us wants to hang out in the company of Charlie or Emmett, and Edward needs to get enough sleep. That was something I found out the first night we talked on the phone for a long time after homework when he started sounding nervous as eleven o'clock was approaching.

"Edward, what is it?" I asked, completely baffled at his sudden skittishness.

There was a long pause, and an equally deep breath, with a soft "fuck" in the exhale.

"Bella, I … I need to get going. I don't want to, but I kind of … have to."

Ice shot down my spine. Did he ever have seizures this late?

"What? Why? Are you going to—"

"No, no, it's not that," he said hurriedly. "But it will be if I don't get enough sleep. I have to get at least eight hours a night or … I'm more likely to have a seizure the next day. It's not every time, but … often enough.

"That's … why I haven't asked you over in the evening at all, or come over. I have to get my work done and get to bed on time."

Well. Now I understand why sleep made his list of hobbies. Shame weighs down his admission, but I don't see it that way at all. But before I could say anything, his frustration jumped in.

"I have a bedtime just like a fucking toddler," he spat in disgust.

I took my own deep breath, trying to come up with a way to combat and smooth all of it over.

"I know it sucks that you have to do this, but don't feel bad about it—not on my account, anyway. You're doing what you need to do to take care of yourself, and it's kind of … hot."

"What?"

Okay, it's not really hot, but it _does_ make me feel all warm inside that he's not being an idiot about it, so we'll go with that.

"The fewer seizures you have, the better you feel, and I get to spend more time with you, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"So you're giving up our phone and non-alone time so we can have more alone time after school and on the weekends, right?"

"Um … yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."

"Do you want to be alone with me, Edward?"

I grinned as I heard his gulping swallow.

"Yeah."

So from that point on, every time he says goodnight at eleven, I tell him I'll give him his reward the next day after school.

Boys are so fucking easy.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

It takes us a few weeks, but we finally manage to plan a three-way date with The Gothlet and Jasper, and Ben and Angela.

A majority of the delays were actually due to Edward. We turned down all the school nights the group suggested because of his need for proper rest—I made up excuses for a few of them so no one would see a pattern. We also had to contend with a seizure issue. He had one on a Thursday and felt so bad the next day that, although he dragged himself through school, there was just no way he was going to have a fun evening, so I faked a stomachache.

But honestly? My gut says he's secretly dreading it for some reason. He seems much fonder of our one-on-one "dates".

"Pizza and _Star Trek_. Exactly why are we coming along for this boys' night out?" The Gothlet whines as we sit down to lunch on Friday.

"Come on; you can't exactly expect to take three seventeen-year-old guys to see _The Proposal._ Just be glad we don't have to suffer through _Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen_.

We all share a collective shudder.

"But I have _such_ a thing for Ryan Reynolds," Angela says wistfully, and I have to admit I'd fap his tap if given half the chance, but in this case, the closest he would be is on the screen.

"I don't know about the two of you, but I plan to ensure that Edward sees as little of the movie as possible," I say with a smirk.

Angela's jaw drops, but The Gothlet's eyes begin to glow.

" _Now_ you're talkin'. Would you girls care to make a wager on that?"

 _Making a bet with the fellatio fairy is a bad idea. For how often she talks about sucking him, you know she can probably keep Jasper's dick in her mouth for the entire two hours without getting lockjaw. The girl's a machine._

Yeah, but I've never walked away from a challenge. Edward and I can go see _Star Trek_ again so we can actually _watch_ the movie, and I can get my Chris Pine freak on. And ever since he made me come with his tongue last Sunday, I've been dying to get up close and personal with the _holy cock!_

"Winner gets their English midterm written for them by the other two," The Gothlet declares, her narrowed eyes daring me to disagree. She's been bitching about that paper since the middle of October—obviously she thinks she has this one in the bag.

"You're on," I tell her. My competitive streak's been in hiding since Edward and I last debated who the most despicable character in _Game of Thrones_ is, and that was in the library, so it's been a while.

"Angela?" The Gothlet asks, and I can physically feel the beam of peer pressure shift from me to her.

"Um …"

"Oh, come on! You and Ben have been going out longer than both of us. You don't think you can keep him … _distracted_ through the whole movie?"

"Well … maybe."

"That's the spirit! This is gonna be fun!" The Gothlet exclaims, and I get that same sort of nauseous feeling I always do when something pleases her. As if not everyone is going to make it out alive … or with everything important still attached.

The boys arrive at the table then, and Edward's eyebrows wrinkle, and he tips his head to the side.

 _Shit. I must still look nauseated._

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

Edward is at my locker waiting after last period. The plan was for him to go home with Emmett and get ready, then I would bring him to my house after my dad left for his shift, and Jasper and The Gothlet would pick us both up. We told everyone Edward would be at my place already to cover for him not driving tonight.

"Hello, beautiful," he says, and my heart flutters as I make that face a cat makes when you scratch under its chin … along with a sigh of closed-eyed contentment. Although his smile is genuine, there's something … serious about his eyes.

"Hey, you; I thought you were going home with Emmett to get ready so I can come pick you up?"

"Um … I am, but …"

Something's wrong. He doesn't look panicked, but he's staring at his shoes and swallowing too much.

"But?"

He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders as he raises his eyes to mine.

"But I'm going to have Emmett bring me over and … and I'd like to introduce myself to your dad as your boyfriend before Jasper picks us up."

Whoa.

There's no way I heard that right.

"What?"

"I wanna meet your dad. Um, officially."

Yep, that's what I thought he said. I can feel my eyebrows bunch like the first time I ever heard someone speak Quileute.

Now Edward's eyebrows draw together and he swallows again.

"Is that not, um … I feel like it's time, and I thought you'd be happy."

"But you're scared of my dad," I blurt out, still trying to figure out what's going on here.

"No!"

My eyebrows are doing calisthenics today. And … reach!

"He has a gun, Bella! And if he ever saw those marks on your… well, on you, he'd riddle me with holes!"

"Nah, just your balls."

"Huh?"

"He'd … oh, fuck it, never mind." And suddenly, what he's trying to do dawns on me, and amid the chorus of "Here Comes the Sun" in my head, my heart melts into a warm and wonderful puddle.

I think my face must have melted too, because Edward huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

"You wanna meet my dad."

"I wanna meet your dad."

"As my boyfriend."

"As your boyfriend."

Well, holy fucking shit. Maybe those balls of his _are_ made of brass. I'll be sure to give them a good squeeze tonight to investigate.

* * *

A/N: Aww! He's gonna risk his balls for her! Now there's a man! Well, until Charlie makes him a eunich, anyway. Thank you all so much for the reviews welcoming me back! It's good to be here! Teaser for Chapter 21 next Thursday, and the chapter will post on July 12th. TFMU girls, I'll see you in a few hours!


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

" **Courage is grace under pressure."  
― Ernest Hemingway**

 **Edward**

I would rather chop my junk up like franks and beans and feed it to the local wolves with a side of freshly pulled toenails than officially meet Bella's dad. I would even do it more than once, I think, if it were possible.

I've avoided breathing the same air as Chief Charlie as if it were the plague, but last night, it caught up to me. I was in town with Mom and caught sight of the chief on the other side of the street. Our eyes locked for a fraction of a second before I ducked and ran like my ass was on fire. I figure I've got forty-eight hours to present myself before I become a teenage _girl_ instead of a boy in Charlie's eyes. I can't imagine him taking it well if his daughter were to come out of the closet.

So, here I sit in Emmett's car with my leg bouncing so fast I think it's going to run off on its own. I took a double of Xanax—I hope I can fucking pull this off without looking like I'm drunk, but that's what it took to get me out the front door.

Emmett glances over at me and shakes his head. Bella and I have been officially dating for three weeks now, and it's been fucking awesome, but my stress levels have been through the roof. When I'm not jacking off or out with Bella, that is. When I'm with her, literally or figuratively, I somehow forget the fucked up way this all started, but when I'm alone, it all comes roaring back and turns me into a twitchy asshole someone should put a gun to. And my jackass brother would be first in line.

"Do you think you could do us all a favor and calm the fuck down after this is over with? Assuming Chief Charlie lets you keep your dick, nothing bad is gonna happen. No one knows your secret, and no one knows—"

My fist flashes out and connects with his bicep before he can utter the words.

"—anything else they shouldn't, so just … fucking enjoy yourself, okay? Bella's a cool girl, and for some reason, she actually likes you. Don't convince her you're too neurotic to be dateable."

I slug his arm again, but this time, there's no force behind it.

"Can Rosalie spell 'neurotic'?" I ask, pressing myself against the window to avoid Emmett's tree trunk of an arm as it swings my way for a headlock.

"I don't care if she can because she sucks dick like a Shop-Vac, and her tit size has more letters than her name. But that's not the point. The point is, get through this and then relax."

The car stops moving, and I manage to pull in half a breath before all the air in the world solidifies. We're in front of Bella's house.

"If I have to come back and get you, I'm gonna beat your ass on top of it, I swear to God. I can aim low."

The joke falls flat as my eyes meet Emmett's. I try to swallow, but it comes out as this choking sound, and Emmett forces a smile.

"Man up, and show him what you're made of. Shake his hand like Dad taught us, and don't look away. It'll be fine."

What I'm made of is a swirling mass of soon-to-be vomit, hopefully not on the Chief's shoes. My whole life is a lie, and I started dating Bella to preserve that lie. A lie on top of a lie that's now grown into something wonderful, but its roots are still rotten and shameful.

And Charlie's gonna see it; I just know it.

"Bella's at the door. Go."

Emmett's words seem to come from far away, but I obey on autopilot and push myself to stand beside the car on shaky legs. I look over the hood and some part of me registers how pretty Bella looks as she smiles at me, but then her brow furrows and her mouth drops open.

"I'm going to get the mail, Dad!" she calls, and she's suddenly beside me.

"Let's take a walk."

She leads me around the side of the house and into the woods just behind Charlie's toolshed.

"Are you this stressed about meeting my dad?"

A wave of nausea ripples through me, and I have to swallow to keep the bile down.

"He's got … guns … and he _knows_ things," I stammer out, putting a hand on the tree that's materialized beside me.

"The hickeys have faded, and we haven't … Wait … that's not it, is it? You're worried about your secret."

I nod numbly, knowing full well she doesn't know _which_ secret. _Jesus motherfucking Christ, what I'd give to have_ no _secrets_.

"There's no way he could know. And even if he somehow asked you, you're so good at what you have to do to keep your secret—"

 _Faking. Deceiving. Flat out fucking lying._

"—that I'm sure you could fool him anyway."

I take a few stumbling steps forward, lean over, and hurl.

"Christ, Edward!" Bella exclaims, but I throw my hand out to keep her from coming any closer.

 _Goddamnmotherfuckingsonofabitch! I just blew fucking chunks in front of my girlfriend._

 _My_ former _girlfriend._

I've never felt this low in my entire life. What kind of a wuss-bitch _am_ I that I can't even keep it together enough to meet Bella's dad? _Fucking Jesus!_ I'd vomit again if there were anything left to bring up.

She doesn't approach, but I can feel she's still there. I straighten up, but there's no way I can turn around.

The leaves behind me crackle, and her touch is feather-light as she makes circles on my back.

 _Pity. Bella, you're killing me._

"Just … go back to your house. I'll call Emmett to pick me up."

"Are you sick? I thought it was just nerves—"

"It was. But what the fuck does that matter now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I'll tell everyone you dumped me, if you want. Whatever makes it easiest for you."

"Edward, what the fuck are you talking about? You think … you think because you got nervous about meeting my dad that I don't want to be with you anymore?"

"I didn't just _get nervous_ about meeting your dad. I had a fucking panic attack and topped it off with— _fuck!_ —losing my lunch!"

"So? What's a little vomit between friends? Why do you always assume I'm going to run screaming the minute something happens that's—"

"—not normal. I'm not normal, Bella. I'm _never_ gonna fucking _be_ normal! Why doesn't that bother you?"

Her deep breath reverberates through the air around us, and I want to turn around so I can figure out what she's thinking … but I can't.

Because I'm naked.

As surely as if I've stripped down, but even more so. A shiver rolls through me as Bella flattens her hand against my back.

"I was going to say 'the minute something happens that's out of your control'. It's out of your control, Edward. The seizures aren't your fault, and your anxiety developed because of them. _None of this_ is your fault. And if it makes you different, who cares? What the hell is 'normal' anyway? Is the way Mike abuses people normal? Is the way the popular girls try to make the rest of us feel like shit normal? If that's normal, then I don't want any part of it! Stop comparing yourself to everyone else and just … be. Be with me."

The silence is now broken by my breathing, which is slow and even. My heart feels like it's surging in my chest, and I know what this feeling is because I named it three weeks ago. And I know it'll never go away. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I turn and throw my arms around her, pulling her to me and pressing my lips into her collarbone to keep them inside. I want to say them but not next to a pile of vomit in the woods, even if it is the place where I bared my soul. She deserves better than that.

"I'll … try," I manage to croak out, wanting to believe it's really that simple—that I can make up my mind to let go, and it'll actually happen. I've been so uptight about so many things for so long.

"Let's stay here until my dad leaves. I didn't tell him yet you were coming to meet him, so we can just—"

"No."

Bella pulls back, her nose wrinkled up in that way I adore.

"What?"

"No." It's louder this time. Stronger.

"I want to meet your dad and tell him—fuck, I want him to know you're with me and that I'm not—"

Bella reaches up and cradles my cheek, her eyes misty.

"You don't have to do this. It's so hard for you."

"No, I do. I'm calm now. I purged my anxiety … um, literally." I smirk at her, and she shakes her head as she smiles.

"I can do this. I _want_ to do this. It's important."

My gaze shoots downward, but Bella grabs my chin, making me raise my eyes to her. She studies me, and I don't squirm because I think she sees _me_. The me underneath all the fear who has found the courage to do something because it's the right thing to do. The real me I've been hiding for years.

And I like it.

"Go," I say, drawing her wrists together in front of me. "Go in, and I'll wait a few minutes then come to the door, just the way it was supposed to happen."

"You're not gonna bolt on me, are you?"

 _If I didn't bolt after I barfed, why the hell would I do it now? Can meeting the Chief possibly be worse?_

"I promise."

Her smile warms the tips of my ears as she walks away backward, only turning when she reaches the edge of the woods.

I take a deep breath—the real me doesn't feel quite so courageous without a beautiful girl making goo-goo eyes at me. _Fuck._

 _Come on, Edward, you can do this._

Besides, it'll take him some time to load the shotgun, and I can run like hell if I need to. Also, Bella would make a pretty good human shield. She'd protect the vital parts, anyway.

I square my shoulders, pop a breath mint, and walk out of the woods, trying to walk like a man and not a prima ballerina. I feel lightheaded and queasy—thank God I don't have anything left to bring up.

 _Deep breaths. Passing out on the porch will_ not _impress the Chief_.

My trembling legs deposit me in front of the door, and I can hear the ballgame on in the living room.

 _Charlie's watching the game. It's not cool to disturb a man and his sports, right? Maybe we should save this for another day._

I manage to turn away from the door, but deep brown eyes, the ones from over by the shed that were filled with things I can only hope for, stop me cold.

 _Edward, man up._

Speaking of my manhood, where the hell is that fucker now, eh?

 _Not threatening to never jizz again if we don't meet Charlie, are ya?_

I would reach down and make sure everything's still there, but I'm terrified that my dick's somehow managed to crawl back inside me.

 _This is fucking ridiculous._

I turn around and ring the doorbell before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, and my stomach does that swooping thing like when you start going down that first big hill of a roller coaster.

"I'll get it!"

 _Oh, shit, here we go …_

Bella whips the door open, her eyes a little too bright and eager—as if she's trying to hold me together by the sheer force of her will. She nods encouragingly, but her Edward bolt-o-meter must be going off because she threads her arm through mine and pulls me over the threshold.

"Are you okay?" she whispers, and I think I nod, but it's hard to tell when so much of me seems to be shaking. Her lips curl into a frown. "Let's get this over with."

As we cross the living room, Chief Charlie stands and sizes me up as if there's a little table between us and a mirrored wall behind me. He's in his uniform for work, but I almost pass out from relief when I see there's no holster on his hip.

"H-h-hi, sir. I'm Edward Cullen."

 _Thank God I've had that one memorized for fifteen years and can spit it out on autopilot._

"Yes. I believe you and I have met before, son," Charlie says as his eyebrows draw together.

Bella looks confused, but visions of trespassing, vandalism, and minor property damage flash before my eyes.

"Yes, sir, but I'm—"

 _A man._

 _A pussy._

 _Nauseous._

"—older now."

"That _is_ how time works," Charlie replies, not giving me a millimeter of slack.

Sweat is rolling down between my shoulder blades, but my lips are as dry as Charlie's humor. _Why does your body never put the moisture where you actually_ need _it?_

"I-I-I just wanted to introduce myself to you formally, sir," I say, thrusting out my hand. "Since Bella and I are f-f-f—dating."

 _Sweet baby Jesus in a basket, what the ever-loving_ fuck _was that!_

Several things happen at once: I nearly choke on my tongue, Bella claws my arm like a cat over a bathtub, and Charlie tries to dislocate my fingers.

"We're dating! All we're doing is dating, sir, I swear! We haven't even—I mean, I haven't seen—"

Bella elbows me so hard it knocks the wind out of me, and while I gasp for breath, she gives Charlie the darkest glare I've ever seen.

The laser beams decrease the slightest bit in intensity, and blood suddenly floods back into my fingers.

"Let's keep it that way, shall we?"

" _Dad!_ " Bella exclaims, absolutely horrified, but Charlie tries to stifle a chuckle.

"It's nice to meet you, son. Why don't you walk me out?"

If looks could kill, Charlie would be no more than a pile of ash, but as it is, all I can do is gape at Bella in terror as I follow Charlie into the hallway.

His glance over his shoulder stops Bella in her tracks, and she flops down on the couch as if her legs won't hold her anymore. And I'm left to wonder if my chalk outline will be in the entryway or somewhere outside the house.

Charlie puts on his gun belt, and while I'm debating if I can vomit _and_ piss myself at the same time, he claps a hand down on my shoulder.

Hot breath that smells like bologna blasts my face. "Son, a shotgun and a shovel are child's play. I'll make it look like the bears got ya. Don't give me a reason."

"N-n-n-n-o, sir. Never," I stammer out, trying to keep all my bodily fluids where they belong.

"Good boy," Charlie says, hefting his jacket over his shoulder. I think I see a smirk on his face, but I'm pretty sure I'm having stress-induced hallucinations, so I can't be sure.

The door snaps closed, and Bella appears at my side.

"Are you all right?"

I reach between my legs and give my junk a firm squeeze, both to make sure everything's still there and to try and snap me out of my haze. "Yeah. Um, I think so."

Bella blows out a relieved breath while failing miserably at hiding her smirk. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me close as her clasped hands come to rest on the small of my back.

"I _really_ appreciate what you just did," she says, kissing my nose, "but let's avoid my dad at all costs for a few weeks. Give him some time to forget what you haven't seen."

My cheeks heat as my mind gives me a slow-motion replay of my most recent colossal fuck up. _Why the hell was the word "fuck" about to come out of my mouth? I haven't even fucked her yet! Are your dick_ and _your mouth both on a hair-trigger when you're seventeen? I didn't think dating would be so dangerous!_

"Speaking of things not seen, what did my dad say to you before he left?" Bella asks, cocking her head to the side.

 _Oh, nothing really. He just described my impending sudden loss of life._

"Um, sports stuff." _Hunting's a sport, right? But usually the bears aren't the ones hunting_ you _._

"Oh," Bella says, not really looking convinced, but she lets it go.

Now that my trip through hell is complete, I realize I'm still sweating like a pig and could really use to splash some water on my face and piss out whatever thankfully didn't make a puddle on Charlie's floor.

"Um … can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure."

She grabs my arm before I reach the stairs.

"Oh! Hang on a minute!"

Is that a smirk on her face? I frown at her as she squeezes past me.

 _What could she possibly be … Wait, could she have had things hanging in there?_ Girly _things?_

A movie of Bella pulling down bras and thongs from the shower rod rolls in my head with "Cherry Pie" as its soundtrack, making my jeans uncomfortably tight.

 _Son of a bitch, if I missed leering at her lingerie because I wasn't quick enough—_

Bella skips down the stairs, saying nothing as she passes, and I continue up, shaking my head.

I do my business, but when I turn to the sink to wash my hands, I find a travel tube of toothpaste and a brush with a little red bow on it, and I can't hold in my snicker.

 _Bella thinks of fucking_ everything _, and somebody wants to put her tongue in my mouth tonight_ really _badly._

* * *

A/N: He survived! Whew! The movies is up next—see you on July 26!


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

" **Good things come to those who wait."  
-Violet Fane**

 **Edward**

My head is telling me I really need to go collapse somewhere after the incredible stress of the last thirty minutes, but my dick is quick to point out that there's a girl downstairs who really wants to suck on some part of me—maybe more than one part. While they discuss, I make my way back down to Bella.

 _Motherfuck_ , does she look hot tonight! Jeans, tight little blue sweater that seems to do some shit with her eyes and make them look even browner— _why are we going out tonight? Can't we just stay here and … talk?_

Wow, dick-voice, you really _are_ getting good at sounding like Jiminy Cricket up in my head. That's some dangerous shit right there.

Bella just watches me as I sit beside her on the couch, and I can't resist the urge to turn her face toward me and kiss her.

Bella's sudden grin breaks our lips apart.

And I know why she's smiling.

"Thanks for the gift," I murmur, leaving my forehead pressed against hers.

"It's the least I could do since my dad was the reason you needed it."

"You just wanted your tongue in my mouth tonight, didn't you, naughty girl?" I whisper, and the moan that escapes her damn near sets my pants on fire.

She surges forward, and my shoulders hit the back of the couch as her lips crash against mine. Her tongue shoots into my mouth, and it's my turn to moan, shivers creeping up my spine as I wrap my tongue around hers.

 _Oh, God, so good._

I reach out blindly and my hand lands on her thigh, and I squeeze and tug until she gets the idea and throws her leg over mine, straddling me.

She pulls back, holding my face in her hands as she slides down my thighs, and my eyes roll back in my head and _oooohhh …_ when she makes contact. She giggles, but I don't have time to react before her lips are on me again, and she grinds her center against my dick.

 _Jesus mother of fuck—_

I pant to get air, my eyes squeezed tight shut as pleasure quivers through me with every move Bella makes. I was too fucking worked up over meeting Charlie to jack off after school, so my dick feels like it's going to explode every time she— _oh, fuck yes! Just a little … faster …_

My hands find their way to her hips, and I pull her against me, increasing the pressure and the heat— _oh God, I wanna blow my load_.

Bella's fingers slide through my hair as she thrusts—her tongue _and_ her pussy—against me, and I can feel it building. _Yes—don't stop—don't stop—so close—I'm gonna—_

 _Ding-dong!_

Bella freezes.

I'm panting, my dick is screaming, and I'm so fucking close to coming that I can actually feel the edge I'm teetering on. _What the hell was that sound?_ Nothing is making sense right now—all I can do is stare at Bella blearily.

 _Ding-dong!_

"I better get that," she says, smirking at me, and I actually whimper as she wiggles her way off my lap. Dick-voice is swearing in languages I've never heard before, and my head isn't far behind.

 _What the holy mother of—_

"Hi, Jasper, Alice!"

 _Jasper! That goddamn motherfucker. The next time I catch him whackin' it in the bathroom, I'm gonna—_

"We were just hanging out waiting for you—"

— _some of us by a fucking thread_ , dick-voice growls, finally bitching in a language I can understand.

There's rustling in the hallway, but it takes my sex-addled brain a moment to realize what that means—Jazz and Alice will be in the living room in a few seconds. I'm slouched down on the couch, and as I look down, I realize I'm either packing a double XL Twinkie in a super convenient location for later, or the outline of my dick is the most obvious thing in the entire fucking room.

I scramble to my feet, all the while doing a piss-poor job of adjusting because I don't have time to stick my hand down my pants, and then I'm standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do with myself. At the last second, I turn toward Bella's mantle, pretending to be enraptured by the picture of five-year-old Bella like the perv I apparently am.

 _Why can't there be a picture of_ _Charlie and his shotgun on the fucking mantle? That would deflate my wood like a pin in a helium balloon._

I turn slightly as they enter the room, and the glare Alice usually has for me morphs into a smirk as her eyes travel down from the hair Bella recently had her hands in to the hard-on that just won't quit.

"Bella, you've got a head start! That's cheating!" Alice announces, still staring at my junk.

 _What?_

"What?"

Bella dashes across the room and stands in front of me, pulling my arms around her waist and effectively camouflaging cockzilla.

"Never mind," Bella hisses, then louder she says, "Shall we go?"

Alice giggles—actually fucking _giggles_.

"Do you and Edward need—"

"We're fine! _Alice._ Let's just go," Bella nearly yells, grabbing Alice's arm and pulling her toward the door.

Jasper has been watching this exchange in complete bewilderment, but once my cover (in the form of Bella's ass) is blown, I actually see the light bulb go on as a grin spreads across his face.

"Did we come at the wrong time?" Jazz asks in as innocent a tone as he can muster.

"Yes, and I almost did too," I growl, giving him a shove toward the door. "I owe you one, fucker."

Jasper just laughs, and even though my cheeks still feel hot, I can't help but smirk in return.

Dinner is … not so bad. My dick can't seem to get it through his head that we're not getting any, so I have a semi the whole time, but other than that bit of distraction, it's a good time. I'm fucking starving since I barely ate today and what little I did now resides in the woods near Bella's house, so I eat half a pizza all by myself. The girls chatter about hot guys in Star Trek, Ben and Jazz and I discuss what we know of the plot—I'm pretty relaxed by the time we make it to the theater. Maybe this group date thing will actually be okay.

The movie's been out for a few weeks, and we're at the late show, so there's only one couple in the theater when we walk in.

Alice grabs Jasper's hand and turns toward Bella.

"May the best woman win," she declares, and her eyes dance in a way that sends a shiver down my spine as she pulls Jasper toward the far end of the theater.

 _What the fuck does_ that _mean?_

I make to follow her, but Bella grabs my forearm and runs her fingers down to clasp my hand, pulling me up the stairs instead of across.

"We're not sitting with everyone?"

"Nope," Bella says as she raises an eyebrow at me.

Oh.

 _Oh._

My dick shoots up like a prairie dog— _holy fuck, did it just yip like one too? Can a guy's dick actually cheer? Maybe I'll Google that later._

But right now, Bella leads me to the last two seats in the last row of the theater and sits down nonchalantly, crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap.

The fuck?

 _But I thought …_

Was I wrong about this?

I throw myself into the seat next to her and try not to pout while my dick pitches a hissy fit.

 _Oh, no, not_ again _! I can't take all this up and down with no in and out! What the fuck, dude? If she doesn't give us any,_ you _better, or I swear erectile dysfunction is in your future. Like,_ tomorrow _, asshole!_

Why do I have to have such an emo-dick?

I consider getting friendly with my button-fly, and although I'm sure I could get off right next to Bella by simply rubbing my dick on my jeans, it might be a bit rude and self-absorbed. Just maybe.

So I resolve to watch the movie and enjoy Bella's company. Maybe she just likes to watch movies from the back row of the theater.

Bella smiles at me, and I do my best to grin back, but I think I fail miserably. My dick is still at DEFCON one and whiny, and in all honesty, he's dragging me right down with him.

If Bella notices my pissy mood, she doesn't let on, but she does raise the armrest between us and lays her head on my shoulder just as the previews start playing.

 _Great. Cuddling._

 _How can a girl go from what we were doing on the couch to just needing a fucking teddy bear? Do they even_ have _a libido, or is it all just fancy words and lovey-dovey shit?_

Dick-voice is still grousing, but even though this isn't what I had in mind, I still lay my cheek against her hair and breathe in the citrusy scent of her shampoo. Being out on a date with Bella isn't so bad. It feels … normal. I could do with some normal for a while, even if it's mostly an illusion.

I take a deep breath as I settle into my seat, resigned to watching the movie with a cuddly girl on my shoulder. Even my dick settles down, although I'm sure I'll have to placate him later.

And then Bella's hand lands on my thigh.

Her touch is light, and it's got my attention, but my dick isn't falling for this shit again. He stays tucked in the corner of my jeans, pouting.

Then Bella's hand begins to slide upward, and a shiver rolls through me as she gets to the top of my thigh. _That_ gets my dick's attention, and warmth rolls out from my groin as I get hard.

 _This better be for real, fucker._

I raise an eyebrow in his general direction. Amen, brother.

I sit stock still, praying she's not just trying to warm her hand or something.

 _Keep going, keep going, yessss!_

I hiss out a breath as her hand lands on the steel rod standing in for my dick, and it's loud enough that she raises her head from my shoulder.

"Is this okay?"

 _You better say it's okay, asshole._

Is she serious?

"Uh … yeah."

"Good," Bella says, and I grab the armrests and nearly squirm out of my seat as she slides her hand up my shaft, her grip firm and tight.

" _Jee_ -sus," I murmur, and Bella just grins at me.

The movie's starting now—the lights go down and the room darkens considerably—and my eyeballs nearly fall out of my head as Bella appears kneeling between my legs.

 _Who the fuck is this vixen between my knees and what did she do with the girl who didn't know how to jack off a guy a month ago?_

"Jesus …"

"That's the second time you've called him."

I stare at her, flabbergasted as she begins to undo my fly.

"Huh?"

"Jesus. I'd really prefer it if he weren't here right now," Bella whispers with a smirk, and suddenly, my dick appears between us, and I swear I nearly pass out as it hits home what she's about to do.

In.

 _Public._

Right in the middle of this fucking movie theater.

I don't think I've ever been this turned on in my entire life.

My dick twitches hard toward my stomach, and heat floods my middle like a volcanic tidal wave.

 _I'm gonna wake up soon, I just know it. I'm gonna wake up in a pile of jizz on cold sheets, and I'm gonna fucking bawl my eyes out because this isn't real._ Nothing _this good is ever real._

"Edward?"

"Umm …"

"Are you all right? I mean, I can stop—"

"No!"

 _Did my dick actually just speak? Because I know I can't form coherent thoughts right now._

I swallow thickly and try to get my shit together. "No, _please_ keep … I just … Wow."

"You like?" Bella asks, running her index finger down the side of my aching dick.

I gasp as I squeeze my eyes shut, pleasure and anticipation rippling through me.

"You stood up in front of my dad today, and I know how hard that was for you. I just want to do something for you in return."

My dick is weeping tears of joy between us, and all I can do is nod, my power of speech stolen along with my breath. If I were able to think, I'd kick my own ass for acting like a pre-teen girl when Bella's the inexperienced one, but I'm too stunned to do anything but watch, wide-eyed, as her lips approach my swollen tip.

 _Holy mother of fuck—_

Her lips make contact, and I squeeze my eyes shut again, the warmth on my tip and the sight of my dick in her mouth too much for me to take.

Rumors of my sexual prowess have been greatly exaggerated—I've only ever been sucked off twice, and both times I came like an overstimulated twelve-year-old. But not this time. This time, I'm gonna take it like a—

"Mmmph!"

I shove my knuckle in my mouth and bite down hard, trying not to cry out as she licks her way around my swollen head. It's taking all I have not to thrust up into her mouth, but Emmett warned me about that one—it's the quickest way to find yourself blue-balled and with a chunk missing from your dick. But, _God_ , now I understand how it happens.

 _Don't move._

She sucks the tip in, and I grab the armrests for dear life.

 _Oh, God, I gotta move. I gotta thrust and feel it all the way down. Oh, please, Bella, go all the way down before I have to—_

Hot and soft and _holy fuck, that's her tongue sliding down my—_

"Oh fuu—ungh—uuck!" My groan is deep and loud, even to my own ears, and Bella pulls off immediately, her eyes wide.

"You've got to be quiet or I'm going to have to stop," Bella hisses, and I nod vigorously, even though I have no idea how the fuck I'm going to do that. At this moment, I'd say or do anything as long as she doesn't stop.

 _Gotta be quiet, gotta be quiet—unnhhhh!_

I have no idea if that was out loud or in my head; all I know is the tip of my dick just hit the back of Bella's throat.

She holds there for a second, but it's not long enough for me to regain control before she's hollowed her cheeks and sucked her way back up to the top like I'm a goddamned popsicle.

 _How the fuck … the fuck did … I … oh, God, I'm gonna come!_

The urge is sudden and powerful, and I gasp out a breath as I fight to keep myself from falling over the edge.

"Stop," I pant, gulping down air as if I've been underwater. "Too much. Give me a minute to—"

 _Chug a few beers?_

 _Build a dam in my balls?_

"—just give me a minute."

Dick-voice, you are _never_ helpful.

Bella just smiles at me mischievously as I struggle to pull myself together, and it dawns on me that Emmett was right—girls do have all the power in a relationship. What guy wouldn't give a girl anything and everything just to feel like this?

"Are you ready?" she asks.

 _I think I'm ready to come like a fucking freight train._

No, I'm not gonna come yet. I'm gonna hold my load and enjoy this for as long as I can.

"Yeah," I mutter, steeling myself for the onslaught of pleasure that's about to overwhelm me.

And then she's there again, and the warmth and the— _oh, God, how am I gonna hold on for more than five seconds?_

 _Ooohhh …_ heat floods me as she slides down slowly, the muscles in my groin twitching as shivers of pleasure roll outward it every direction. I shudder as my tip hits the back of her throat again, but then— _oh God, oh God, oh my_ fuck _-ing God—_ so tight as she slides her way back up, sucking hard as she goes.

 _Again. I'm going to fucking die if she doesn't—_

"Uunngghh." The groan is softer this time, but I truly can't contain it. Nothing has ever felt this good in my entire life.

 _Don't move._

 _Don't come._

But the urge to do both is nearly overwhelming as she sets up a rhythm of sliding and sucking. I try to hold my hips in place, but I know they're bucking a little no matter how hard I try to hold them.

"Uhhh … uhhh," I groan on her upstroke, my stomach muscles tightening to try to slow the warmth and pressure building in my groin.

 _Don't come. Don't come._

It's like a goddamn catch-22—I want to come so badly but I want the pleasure to last as long as possible. I try to think about Catch-22, but all I see is little soldiers holding dick-shaped rifles that keep going off. _Not helping._

 _I wanna go off. Oh, God, I just wanna come and come and come—_

And now it's building. The pleasure that was rolling outward begins to pile up in a place deep in my middle, and I can't make it dissipate anymore.

"Oh, _fuck_ … Bella."

She slides and she sucks and I buck every time, the pleasure piling higher, pulsing deeper. We're in perfect sync as everything in me tightens, spiraling in circles.

 _Hold on. Hold on._

So … warm … tight … oh, God, I _need_ —

"Bella, I'm—"

 _Oh, God, I'm gonna come. I'mgonnacome I'mgonnacome I'mgonnacome._

I can't talk so I try to push her head away, but she grabs my hands and stays right where she is, and on the next upstroke, she sucks even harder.

 _Holy mother of—I can't hold—it's coming, it's coming—fuck, I'm coming!_

The tingling rolls outward from my balls in waves I can't stem, so I ride them, thrusting my hips in time with the rhythmic pulses of insane fucking pleasure. I come for what feels like an eternity and open my eyes to see Bella staring back at me, my dick still in her mouth.

Best. Fucking. Dream. _Ever_.

Except I'm in a chair and not a bed, and the fucking _Star Trek_ theme is playing. I mean, it _felt_ like I went where no man has gone before, or maybe _came_ would be more appropriate—

My musing is interrupted as Bella pops off my dick and resumes her place on my shoulder.

 _Hold the fuck up—did all that really happen?_

Pleasure is still licking gently at my insides, and there's no come anywhere to be seen, but my dick is lying in my lap like a little man in a sombrero who's way too drunk on tequila.

A smirk pulls at my cheeks as I button up my pants, and when I turn to Bella, wide brown eyes meet mine.

"Was that … okay?"

 _Was that o—holy fuck that was—what is she—_

Various parts of me are still on overload, but I manage to stammer out, "That was … what the fuck _was_ that?"

Her face falls, so I quickly correct myself.

"I mean, that was fucking fabulous, b-but … you've never done that before, have you?"

"No," she whispers, and even in the darkened theater, I can see her blush.

"That was … I mean, what made you do that right now? Here?" I ask, gesturing to the theater around us.

"I'll tell you later. Let's watch the movie, okay?"

The mischievous glint is back in her eye, so I let it go and settle in to figure out what Kirk and Spock are up to. Bella begins to rub her fingers up and down my arm, and I sigh in total blissed-out contentment.

I startle awake as the credits come up, and before I can take a breath, Bella's hand is on my arm.

"It's okay. You didn't have a seizure."

Her words dismantle the panic attack that was building, but now I'm just confused.

Movie theater.

 _Star Trek_.

 _Mother of all fucking blowjobs._

My cheeks heat, and I don't know if it's because she gave me life-altering head or because I fell asleep on her shoulder after.

"So … um … would you mind leading Alice and Ang to believe I did um … that through most of the movie?"

"That what?"

"You know … _that_ ," Bella says, looking uncomfortable and gesturing toward my dick.

"You want Alice and Ang to think you gave me head all through the movie?"

"Well … yeah." Her blush is adorable, but what the fuck?

"Why?"

"We kind of … made a bet. On who could keep their boyfriend _occupied_ through the whole movie."

"You _what_?"

"We made a bet. And I don't like to lose."

Bella's grin takes my breath away, but my head is still stuck back on the part where she made a bet involving blowjobs.

And she doesn't like to lose.

 _Bella, I bet you couldn't suck my dick for a half hour. Bella, I bet you wouldn't have sex with me right here in your truck. Bella, I bet—_

I shake my head to get dick-voice to shut up so I can think for a second.

"So you want me to tell them that you—"

"You don't have to go into details! Just … make them think you have no clue what went on during the movie."

 _Well, that'll be easy; I fell asleep after you blew my brains out._

"Umm … sure."

"What?" Bella almost snaps, her cheek still stained bright pink.

I can't help the chuckle that escapes right before the truth. "I just can't fucking believe you made a bet with crazy Goth girl involving blow jobs."

"Well … we didn't actually specify. I just had to keep you distracted. But I know that's what she was going to do. That girl can—"

"Whoa! TMI!" I yelp, throwing my hands up to ward off that particular visual. _But, on second thought, seeing that would be kinda hot, and how does Bella know—_

"Okay, never mind," Bella says quickly before my curiosity really kicks in. "Here come Jasper and Alice, just … make it sound good, okay? Alice thinks she has this in the bag."

 _Oh, she does, does she? Well, we'll just see about that._

Everyone is quiet as we head for the cars until Bella asks, "So, did everyone enjoy the movie?"

Ben and Jasper both chime in with their favorite parts, but I stay silent until Alice saunters up beside me.

"Did you like the movie, Edward?"

I can feel Bella's eyes singeing the hair on the back of my neck like laser beams, but I don't miss a beat. "Um … well, I _think_ it was good."

"You're not sure?" Alice's gaze is sharpening, but she has no idea how much experience I have with lying.

"Actually, no. I was kinda … distracted."

Alice rounds on Bella faster than a whore on payday. "You told him!"

"I did not!"

"Told me what?"

Alice's eyebrows scrunch as she glares at each of us, her X-ray vision set to maximum truth detect, but there's no way either of us are gonna cave. Bella is too determined, and I'm having way too much fun angering the Goth goddess.

"What the hell is she talking about, Bella?" I ask innocently, and Bella pulls off a perfectly straight-faced shrug.

Alice huffs loudly and stalks ahead, and it's all I can do to keep a straight face. Bella's arm creeps around my waist as she buries her face in my shoulder, and I can feel her giggling more than I can hear it. I don't know what the hell I was just part of, but anything that nets me an epic cock sucking can't be bad, right?

On the ride home, Bella's lips never part from mine, and by the time we get to her house, I can't help wishing we had time for round two. But Chief Charlie will be home in less than an hour, and Jazz offered to drive me home, so this must be God's way of seeing I get there with my balls still intact. Given the way this evening started, I'm way ahead of the game.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Bella says as she slides toward the door, but I just can't help pulling her back for one more lingering kiss.

"I had a good time tonight," I murmur against her hair, hoping she'll know I'm not only referring to the tango between her lips and my dick.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. We should do this again and actually _watch_ the movie next time."

Bella's giggle makes my chest tight in a way that's completely the opposite of panic, and I couldn't contain my grin if I tried.

"Deal," she says as she hops from the car. "Goodnight, Edward!" she calls over her shoulder as I slide into the front seat, and I realize a second before it's too late that I'm about to sigh like a dreamy schoolgirl.

Jasper shakes his head because somehow that fucker _knows_ about the unicorns and rainbows in my head, but he has other concerns right now.

"So, what's all this about a bet?"

 _Oh, motherfucker._

* * *

A/N: I hope that was hot enough for you—it certainly was for Edward! See you on August 9!


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

 **Sharing secrets, real secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them.  
\- Erin Morgenstern**

 **Bella**

"Admit it, you told him!" The Gothlet barks, her ghostly white finger poking me in the arm.

"I didn't! And besides, I already wrote my term paper, so it's not like you lost anything!"

I was never a good liar, but I'm determined to hold on to this one. Thanks to Edward, I won this showdown and a little respect from her royal highness of hand jobs.

"Yes, I did! Now I have to write mine," The Gothlet grumbles, and now I know why she's so tetchy.

"I can't believe you sucked his dick for that long; my jaw hurt after five minutes, and then Jasper—"

" _Way_ too much information!" Angela interjects, slapping her hand down on The Gothlet's desk. "I want to be able to talk to Jasper again _without_ thinking about his … you know."

"Penis?" The Gothlet supplies, smirking as Ang blushes to the roots of her hair.

"Junk," Ang counters. I'm impressed she managed to say that much.

"Besides, I never said I was … down there … that long, and neither did Edward. He just said he was distracted," I add, trying to save Angela from further sin-quisition.

"So what _were_ you doing?"

 _Wow! That worked like a charm! Except now, she's focused on me again._

"She's not telling," says a warm, deep voice from beside me, and I shiver as Edward runs his fingers up my arm as he passes, a playful smile on his face.

Everything in my chest melts into an Edward-adoring glob, and I need to support my chin with my arm to keep from falling face-first onto my desktop.

The Gothlet heaves a dramatic, frustrated sigh, but Ang is struggling to contain her giggles. She's just glad she doesn't have to write anyone's term paper.

"Hey, did you see the signs for the winter formal went up? Ben asked me to go with him!"

The Gothlet and I both freeze.

"Really?"

"There's a formal?"

Ang side-eyes The Gothlet and answers my question instead.

"Of course, silly! It's the day after Christmas. The girls wear party dresses and the guys wear suits and ties. I've never had a boyfriend at this time of year before, so I've never gone. It's going to be so much fun! We all have to go together!"

 _A formal dance?_

We stare back at her in a mix of disbelief and shock but for different reasons, of course.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," The Gothlet scoffs, and Ang deflates like an over-filled balloon.

"Why?"

"I _don't_ dress up."

"Sure you do! I've seen you in a skirt before."

"Yeah, but not a _dress_."

"Dresses are easy access," Ang observes, appealing to The Gothlet's baser nature. "All Jasper has to do is just put his hand up there—"

"I'll strip for him! He doesn't need an easy way to put his hand up there," The Gothlet replies, crossing her arms.

It would seem that Cindy Lou and the Grinch are at an impasse.

I glance back at Edward, but he's not paying attention to our conversation; he's talking to Jasper. _I've never been to a formal. I can't dance, but … does it really matter?_

I try to convince myself that the only reason I want to go is to spend time with him, but I know the truth—at least some of it is about being seen _with_ him. This is the ultimate in high school relationship status—no one sees most of what we do together, but attending a formal is a declaration of possession.

I know I shouldn't want that, and I shouldn't care, but a part of me just wants to see the look on Bitch Face and Bubble Butt's faces when I walk in on his arm … to feel like I belong, for once.

 _I wanna go. I wonder if he'll ask me._

My attention snaps back to the girls as Ang leans toward The Gothlet with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Jasper would wear black. A nice black suit with a black tie—"

"—and a black shirt, and tails, and a top hat! Oh _hell_ , Angela, why did you have to say that! Black Orchid Couture has some _amazing_ Gothic suits—"

"Black Orchid—"

"Maybe he'd even wear a collar for you," Ang all but coos, and I swear there is actual drool on The Gothlet's chin. She's _so_ in.

I glance back at Jasper. She's gonna turn that all-American boy into Marilyn fucking Manson. Poor guy has no idea.

Edward's eyes catch mine, but I turn around quickly to hide my blush. I have no idea how to explain my feelings to him on this subject, so I'm just gonna hope he asks me, and I can say yes without fucking it up in some way.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The hallways are abuzz with winter formal talk all morning—girls gossiping over who's going to ask whom or squealing their news of an invitation, and boys razzing each other about who will end up taking an ugly girl or no girl at all. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we talk to those testosterone-riddled assholes.

But that thought exits my head along with every other one as Edward saunters into the room—white t-shirt, blue hoodie, lick-able scruff, and bronze which-God-gave-you-that-amazing-sex-hair to absolutely die for.

He plops down beside me and throws me a smirk, and I swear it hits my chest like some lust-filled projectile and makes me horny on contact.

 _We're in biology. Not human biology and not anatomy. And that porn music is only playing in your head._

He's late—he barely has time to set down his books before Mr. Banner begins the lecture, so we don't get to talk like we usually do. I rest my head on my hand, and I don't realize until Edward grins at me smugly that I'm staring at him instead of my notes.

 _Dammit!_ Focus, _Bella!_

I give myself a good shake, but there's too much excitement in the halls today, and my thoughts drift back to the winter formal. Edward in a suit and tie, me in a blue and black satin dress … _I wonder if he'll ask me today_ …

 _Thump!_

"F-f-f-oww!"

I turn and Edward's cradling his hand, but the look on his face is sheer terror as he stares back at me. His head jerks rapidly to the side, and he's out of his chair and out of the room before I can even blink.

 _That was a seizure. Just like he had in my truck, and it's nearly lunchtime, and now he's gonna have a big one sometime today—_

Banner stops mid-sentence as Edward flies from the room.

"Was that Edward? Jasper, can you go see if he's—"

"Mr. Banner?" I ask, but I'm already out of my seat and walking to the front of the room as calmly as I can even though I'm freaking out inside.

 _Edward's panicking. Where would he go? I've got to find him so he doesn't have a seizure alone!_

"Bella? What—"

I make it to his desk and lean over so only he can hear me.

"Mr. Banner, I know Edward's secret."

His eyebrows rise, but now I have his undivided attention.

"He's going to need to go home. I'll help him call his mom. Please let me go find him."

He draws in a rapid breath, and I recognize the fear in his eyes. _So that's what I looked like to Edward when I was afraid of him. Fuck._

"I know what to do. Please," I plead, as Edward on the floor in the grip of a seizure runs on a loop in my head.

Banner nods, and I'm out the door, trying to calm myself so I can think.

 _He'll want to be alone. Where would he go? Think, Bella! Think!_

 _He wouldn't go to the boys' bathroom—too much chance of someone else being there,_ I think as I walk-run down the hall as quickly as I can.

 _Empty classroom? No, everything at this end is in use, and he wouldn't go far …_

I reach the end of the hallway, and I'm already turning to head back when I hear the sound of rapid footsteps. Past the last classroom is a short set of stairs leading to an alcove where the north entrance to the building is. No one ever uses it in the middle of the day, and Edward's pacing back and forth in that space like a caged animal.

"Edward!" It's an agonized cry, and he freezes, his chest heaving.

His arm chooses that moment to flash out in a spasm, and the pain on his face is so palpable that I almost burst into tears.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he swears as he starts pacing again, looking as if he's about to climb the walls.

 _I don't think he's thinking straight. Hell, I don't even think he's thinking at all!_

"Edward, you need to go home. Have you called your mom?" I ask, approaching him slowly.

He stops again, staring at me while he tries to process my words.

"I—no, you're right. Can you call her for me? I'm not sure I can hold my phone for long enough."

"Okay, give it to me, and I'll call her."

He pulls it out of his back pocket with trembling fingers, and his head jerks sideways again as he hands it to me.

 _Focus, Bella! He needs you right now._

I dial his mom's number as he stands panting before me, his gaze trained far away as he gulps in air.

"Hello?"

"Esme? This is Bella. I'm with Edward at school, and he's having myoclonic seizures. Can you please come and get him?"

"Oh, sh—is he all right?"

"For the moment. He's … worried. We're at the north entrance."

"Okay, I'll be there as fast as I can."

I disconnect the call, and Edward hasn't moved, but he's still breathing like he can't get enough air.

"Edward? I called your mom, and she's coming. It's gonna be okay; I promise. You're gonna be okay."

He startles when I put my arms around him, but suddenly, he's holding on as if his life depends on it.

"Just breathe."

He nods into my neck, and we stand there until his shoulder jerks forward into mine—hard.

"Shit! I'm sorry! I can't—"

"I know, baby; I know. Don't apologize. You didn't hurt me."

"Fuck! Why is this happening? I don't understand, and I can't—I can't breathe!"

His breathing becomes truly rapid, and I start to get scared. I've never seen him this way.

"Just breathe slowly, baby. Hold me and breathe. You've got to calm down or things are gonna get worse," I whisper as I rub my hand over his back in slow circles.

"Feel my arms around you, and listen to me talk. I'm gonna hold you until your mom gets here, okay? Nothing bad is going to happen while I've got you. Just a few more minutes and you'll be going home."

As I continue to rub his back, his breathing finally slows down enough that it's no longer coming in gasps. He's still holding me tightly though, and I can feel his heart thundering against my chest.

"That's good. There, you're calming down now. Take deep, slow breaths. You're okay."

"Thank you," he whispers into my shoulder, and I squeeze him a little tighter.

"Do you wanna sit on the steps?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be good," he answers, pulling his head off my shoulder.

His eyes are red, and his cheeks are wet, but I don't say anything as we sit together on the third stair. He stares straight ahead for a few tense moments, but suddenly, it's as if he's just realized where he is, and that I'm beside him. He looks over at me, and I try not to react because he looks as if the weight on him is so heavy he could collapse at any second.

"Thanks for coming to find me. I … I kinda freaked out totally. I couldn't think straight enough to remember what I should do," he says, resting his head on his arms.

"I know. You looked so scared in Banner's room. I knew I had to find you."

"I'll be okay," he says, and I know he's finally come back to himself.

I'm so relieved I could cry.

And I will.

After he goes.

Just then, his mom pulls up, looking as frantic as Edward did a few moments ago.

She's through the door and kneeling in front of him before her car has stopped moving, I swear.

"Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine, Mom. We just need to go before … it happens, okay?"

"Of course. What about—"

"I'll get your books and tell the office you left. I can also let Emmett know," I say, rubbing my hand up and down Edward's arm. "Just go."

"Bella—"

"Just go," I whisper again because I can see it all in his eyes and he doesn't need to say it. He just needs to go take care of himself.

"Okay. I'll be in touch as soon as I can," he says, squeezing my hand.

And then he's off and down the stairs, climbing into the backseat of the car—just in case.

I sit back down on the stairs, feeling like there's a hole in my chest. Why the fuck is this happening to him? He seems like he's happy for the first time in a long while, but his damn epilepsy just won't let him have it. And I spent the morning fixated on something beyond trivial, in comparison.

I'm worried about being on his arm for a goddamn dance while he's worried about not having a seizure in front of the entire school.

 _Fuck._

I stay there until the tears stop rolling down my cheeks, then I go take care of all the details left in Edward's wake.

He doesn't call that night, but then, I didn't expect him to. It's nerve wracking, but I just have to trust that things went as usual; that is, he had his big seizure and spent the rest of the day sleeping or else someone would have called me. _Esme_ would _call me if something bad happened, right?_ I realize I'm honestly not sure. Maybe I should talk to her about that.

I wait out the evening with a book, but the next morning, I'm positively wired in homeroom waiting to see if he'll show at school … and he doesn't. I see Emmett in passing throughout the day, but he's always surrounded by other guys or with Rosalie—neither situation lending itself to any sort of real communication. So I head home alone. Dad's still at work, so I do the dishes, my homework. I even scare up a dust rag and have half the pictures off the mantle when my phone finally rings.

I dive for the coffee table, sighing in relief when I see Edward's name on the screen.

"Edward?"

"Hi, Bella."

Emmett's voice is unsure, and panic immediately shoots down my spine.

"Wh-what's happened?" I stutter out, clutching the phone and wilting on the spot so that I'm kneeling on the floor.

"Oh! Edward's fine! Well, he's not _fine_ , but nothing super bad happened." A heavy sigh. "Shit! I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to scare the hell outta you."

"I'm just glad he's okay," I say on a long exhale, trying to steady my nerves. "What _did_ happen?"

"Well, yesterday wasn't good, so he's upset, and I don't think he's going to call you anytime soon. But … I think he needs you. I've tried to snap him out of it but … it's just not working.

"Would you … come talk to him? I know he won't bite _your_ head off, and once you're here, he's not going to ask you to leave."

I can't help the snort that escapes—the inner workings of Emmett's mind are fascinating.

"What?"

"Never mind. Of course, I'll come over. Now?"

"Well … yeah, as soon as you can. Before he snaps at Mom again and Dad grounds him for eternity."

 _Oh boy. This is gonna be fun._

"Okay, Emmett; I'll be there soon."

"Thanks, Bella," Emmett answers, hanging up before I can respond.

 _What the hell could have happened?_

I'm certainly not going to figure it out sitting here, so I grab my sneakers and a hoodie and head over to Edward's.

* * *

A/N: Hmm … what do you think happened? See you on August 23!


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

" **Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."  
― Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land**

 **Bella**

As I get out of my truck, I hear a ball bouncing, followed by a swishy sound and a harder bounce. The area to the left of the Cullen's detached garage is paved, and I see a basketball hit the backboard that's mounted to the concrete wall just before the ball drops straight down through the hoop.

Somehow, I know it's got to be Edward.

I've never seen him handle a basketball before despite all I've heard about his skills. I honestly didn't think he played anymore. I assumed it would be too hard on him since he was forced to quit.

I walk over toward the basket but stay far enough over Edward's shoulder that he won't see me unless he turns around completely.

His lean body makes a perfect line as he releases the ball—red Nike's, muscular calves flexed as he pushes off the ground, black mesh basketball shorts hugging his well-defined ass, white t-shirt slipping down his arms to reveal ridiculously toned biceps.

 _Swish._

He gets his rebound and jogs back to the very same spot, aiming and releasing in a matter of seconds—no bounces, no time taken to line up the shot—just muscle memory and incredible, effortless talent.

 _Swish._

Jesus fucking Christ.

I know next to nothing about basketball, but it doesn't take an NBA scout to see the graceful flow of his movements, the textbook precision of his execution, or the fact that he makes each and every shot.

Emmett's words from the night Edward got so drunk reverberate in my head.

 _"Why the hell does he do this, then?"_

 _"To be like everybody else, I guess. There are so many things he can't do. He was an incredible basketball player in middle school. I guess there's a limit to what he's willing to give up."_

He gave this up.

He had to give this up because epilepsy leaves no room for high-exertion contact sports.

 _I can't imagine having to give up something you're this good at. Something you love._

"Has he missed any?"

Emmett's voice startles me—not because he's being his usual, loud mouth self, but because he's so fucking close.

"No."

"How many has he made?"

"I've counted thirty, but that's only since I've been here," I answer, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Such a fucking waste," Emmett says, and I turn to see him shaking his head behind me. "He was the real thing, you know? Even when he was a scrawny thirteen-year-old, he had a golden touch. I really thought he'd go Division I for point guard after high school. He was that good."

"He still is," I say, watching as Edward nails another fade-away jumper.

"Yeah," Emmett agrees, and that one word conveys so much pain and loss.

"He hardly ever shoots around anymore. Only when he's really pissed off—kinda like today."

I nod my head, not at all surprised when Emmett confirms my suspicions. Edward's disquiet lays across his tense shoulders like a yoke—it's telegraphed in every jerky, too energetic play he makes on the ball.

"What happened?"

"He had yesterday's seizure in the car on the way home. I guess he thrashed pretty good before Mom could stop and hang on to him; he's got a nasty bruise on the side of his head."

Emmett says the words matter-of-factly, but the skin around his eyes is tight as they follow Edward.

"And this morning, he had the worst headache I've ever seen; there was no way he could go to school. Mom says he's been out here for a half hour, and we should get him to stop before he overheats himself."

I take a deep breath, letting the burden of all I've just heard settle on my shoulders.

"I'll go talk to him."

"I kinda figured you would," Emmett answers, clapping my shoulder as he turns away.

I'm nearly thrown off my feet, but I smile as I watch him heading up the walk toward the house. His girlfriend may be a total bitch, but he's a good guy.

I step to the side of Edward's half court—close enough so he'll see me but far enough away not to interrupt his shooting.

He's taking a jump shot when I finally make it into his peripheral vision—nothing but net as he lands squarely and his head whips to the side.

He sees me, but I'm not sure he wants to because he gets his rebound and continues to shoot. I know I told Emmett I'd get Edward to stop, but something tells me it's not time yet, and if I try to tell him what to do, I'm going to face the brunt of his ire. So I sit down beside the court and just enjoy the show.

After about five minutes and only one missed shot, he finally holds the ball and comes toward me.

I try not to react to the deep purple bruising that stretches from temple to cheekbone and encircles his left eye, but his flinch as he approaches is a clear indication I've failed. _Fuck._

"Does it really look that bad?

"Forget it; I know it does," he says before I can even answer.

 _Oh, yeah,_ this _is gonna be a fun afternoon._

"I need a shower," he tells me as he walks past. I still haven't said a word yet, but again, I know better than to do so. He's normally so attentive to me, and every thought he's had since he saw me has been about himself. There's too much anger and upset for him to feel anything else.

I follow him into the house, but I stop in the foyer to hang up my coat, and by the time I'm done, he's nowhere to be seen.

Ten minutes later, he walks into the living room in jeans and a soft-looking green sweater, his hair still wet and sticking up in all directions. My heart speeds up just like it always does, but he doesn't look at me—choosing instead to stare at the floor between us.

"I'm … fuck—"

"You're upset, I know."

"Yeah, but not—"

"Not at me. I know that too."

Edward snorts, shaking his head. "Is there anything you don't know?"

"I don't know why this keeps happening to you," I say, standing up and wrapping my arms around him. "Do you have _any_ idea why things are changing?"

Edward glances down as his lips twist into an agitated frown.

"Yeah, I … I do now. Mom dragged me to see my neurologist this afternoon. She says it's likely ... hormones. You know, teenage stuff? Stress and mood swings and … girls …"

He won't look at me, so I assume the worst.

"This is my fault then?"

His head snaps up, and he grasps my forearms, suddenly focused and intense. "No, of course not! You finding out was stressful, but the rest has been—and she said this happens to a lot of her patients. Eventually, it might make things better, but right now—"

"It's making them worse?"

"Unpredictable," he corrects me, looking down again. "Now, I don't know what's going to fucking happen and when—as if this shit wasn't hard enough to deal with!"

He breathes a heavy sigh and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Thank you for what you did yesterday. I really lost my shit, and I probably would have had the seizure in the middle of the hall if you hadn't gotten me out of there."

I don't respond. I just hug him tighter, and it's as if I'm squeezing the words out of him.

"I'm so … scared and angry and confused. And I just can't calm the fuck down. It's like … like I want out of my own skin. Like it's too tight and I need—"

"What do you need?"

"A way to escape," he says, his words so soft I almost miss them as he mumbles them into my shoulder.

"How have you escaped before?" I whisper against his neck. "I know you've been stressed out in the past—"

"Basketball. But that was back when I could play. Just shooting is too automatic. I'm still trapped in my head, and it makes me even angrier—"

"What about music? Do you ever play when you're upset?"

He nods, still looking so fucking lost.

"That's why I _started_ playing."

"Why don't you play then? See if it'll help? I can leave—"

"Don't leave," he blurts out. "I want to be with you. I just need—"

"I know. How about I sit where you can't see me? That way, I won't distract you."

He nods again and pulls back from me, his steps slow and weary across the open floor to the piano in the front room. When he reaches his destination, he just stands there, one hand resting on the side of the instrument.

I slide into a leather chair behind him, watching him breathe deeply, the set of his shoulders taut and painful to watch. Then he slides onto the bench and stretches his long, nimble fingers over the keys, and I breathe in with him as his fingers make contact, and he raises his head.

 _Holy._

 _Fucking._

 _Shit._

When I envisioned Edward playing the piano, it was with music in front of him, playing some tune well enough that I would recognize it.

That image is so opposite from what's happening in front of me it's actually laughable. And maybe I would laugh … if I could breathe.

He touch is so gentle—he caresses the keys, but the sound coming from them is so powerful in its sadness that it's taken my breath away.

He plays with his whole body—eyes almost closed, shoulders hunched over the keys—as if he's channeling everything he's feeling out of the tips of his fingers, purging himself.

I'm absolutely frozen in place as I watch him, pouring out his heart and soul in the form of angst and sorrow. It's beyond beautiful. In this moment, _he's_ beyond beautiful.

The scene before me is so intimate I realize with a pang that maybe I shouldn't be here. But wait, _he_ asked me to be. He asked me to sit and watch; he wanted to share this with me.

The tears brim up and roll slowly down my cheeks, but I don't wipe my eyes, not wanting to lose sight of him for a second.

The piece meanders on, wandering through valleys of sorrow and great heights of anger, finally landing on a gentle resolve. As the last notes echo in the room, Edward lays his hands in his lap and bows his head, and I'm still too just … fucking … stunned to do anything but stare in wonder.

He clears his throat.

"That was … um … Rachmaninoff. I like to play that one when things are … frustrating me."

His voice releases me from the music's spell, and I take a gasping breath in, startling him. His head whips around, his eyes making contact with mine before lowering to the floor as his cheeks flush crimson.

"Say something," he mutters, and I'm not sure if it was to himself or to me, but suddenly, my power of speech returns.

"Christ, Edward," I whisper, standing on shaky legs, my breath still coming in pants to match my racing heart.

"That was …"

I nearly trip in my eagerness to get to him, and Edward turns to face me on the piano bench, but I reach him before he can stand, stepping in between his knees.

"That was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard," I tell him, cradling his cheeks in my hands.

I can't take it anymore—my lips just _have_ to be on his—so I lean down and place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He responds instantly—his eyes closing, his head turning to follow mine when I pull away.

Disappointment floods the seas of green until I enfold his hand in mine, pulling him with me.

My head is still spinning, trying to take in everything I've witnessed today—the talent he was forced to walk away from and the one he discovered and honed with his grief—and casting a shadow over it all, the illness that dogs his every step.

He's … amazing. And it has nothing to do with his popularity or his sex hair (although that's a perk) or the persona he assumes at school. I'm talking about who he is—the _real_ him. The boy I don't even think he sees.

I want to do everything, say everything I'm feeling all at once, and I don't know where to start, except I know I need to be closer. So I lead him over to the couch across from the piano and sit, pulling him down next to me. As soon as he sits, I'm in his lap, my thigh over his legs, hands buried in his hair as I pull his lips to mine.

I think I'm falling.

When our lips meet, it's not the usual explosion of lust but something deeper, higher. It's in my chest and not between my legs, and it's powerful, pulling me closer to him in every way possible.

He's hesitant, but my tongue is insistent, pushing its way into his mouth and tangling with his, searching, hoping.

His moan is low and urgent as he gives in, his arms wrapping around my waist, legs shifting between my thighs.

His kiss is desperate, hands groping, tongue surging, as if he wants to crawl inside me and never come out again, but I meet him with slow, steady strokes, confident and reassuring. I'm dizzy, and now I feel the heat between my legs, but what's in my chest is still stronger, brighter.

I want to love him. With my lips, and tongue, and fingers. With everything I have so he understands. I don't even know really what I want him to understand, but I know he has to. He has to feel what I'm feeling right now and give it back to me with everything _he_ has.

Our mouths find a rhythm, and suddenly, he's with me, giving back steady and even, pulling me closer as his hands grip instead of scrabble, his tongue caressing and claiming.

We continue for minutes or hours, our conversation silent but saying more than our words ever could. My heart, my whole chest, is full and bright, the euphoria so giddy and overwhelming I'm almost shaking with it. Maybe I _am_ shaking.

I need to be closer still, so my one hand slides down his chest and around his back while the other glides down his cheek. But it's the wrong cheek, and he winces, pulling back as his eyebrows scrunch together.

I pull in a gasping breath as if I've been underwater all this time and am only now realizing I need oxygen, and he does the same, but the surprise in my eyes isn't reflected back. His are filled with sorrow as he raises a hand to his cheek, gently moving mine away from his deeply bruised skin.

I can't let it end this way.

After what we've just shared, I can't let his pain come back, so I place my lips just to the side of his chin—a feather-light kiss, gentle but full of everything I'm feeling.

His eyes close, so I take that as permission, moving slowly up the mottled skin, loving every bit of it until I reach the side of his eye.

His exhale is shaky, his swallow difficult, and my nose brushes the wetness on his cheek as I return to his lips, kissing him chastely until he opens to me again.

And when he does, this time he's the one who's giving—and it feels just like what I was giving him moments before.

I know what it is, but does he? Has he felt it before, and does he have a name for it? I've felt it before but only in bits and slivers, and I've never given it a name.

It scares me.

For a million reasons and only one, but I push it all away and just _feel_.

I've never felt so much in my entire life and never all for one person, overwhelming and all-consuming.

He pulls me closer, and my thigh brushes his erection. He breaks our kiss with a sharp, inhaled hiss.

It's the day _after_ , and I know everything is weird for him, so I freeze, unsure if that was pleasure or just surprise.

He raises his eyes to me, his breathing shallow, and he swallows thickly, his hips shifting upward just slightly before he catches himself.

I can't contain the grin that pulls at my cheeks.

"Did that feel … good?"

He nods, already moving to resume our kiss, but I raise my hand, stopping him.

"Move against me, Edward."

His brow furrows, but before he can speak, I lay a finger to his lips.

"Please. I want to see you make yourself feel good."

His eyes widen, then he closes them as he shifts against me, letting out an involuntary gasp.

"Keep going," I encourage. "Let go."

He chuckles, dropping his chin as his cheeks redden, but I'm serious. He needs this, and it's more than a little … hot.

"Feel something good today. I want to watch."

Now his eyes shoot to mine. "Um …"

I shake my head and bring my lips to his neck, feathering kisses on the uninjured side just underneath his jaw.

"Ohhhh," he murmurs, raising his chin so I can reach all the way back to his ear.

His hips shift tentatively, and I can feel his need, feel what he's holding back.

I bring my lips to his ear. "Let go …"

His hands find my shoulders and he rubs against me in earnest, a shiver rolling through him and straight into me.

 _Yes._

"Oh, God," he pants, head thrown back and eyes closed, and something twinges deep in my stomach and spreads in warm waves.

Edward starts a slow rhythm, pistoning his hips against me and gasping when his balls press against my jeans.

"Oh, fuck; oh, fuck," he mumbles, the words barely audible, but they set me on fire—his pleasure like some sort of missing piece of my soul.

His motion becomes jerky, his gasps followed by sharp breaths, and—

"Uhh, uhh, Bella, oh … Christ …"

"Come, Edward," I whisper, running my teeth over his earlobe, and he tenses, hands suddenly gripping my shoulders.

"Oh … fuck … ungggh!" he moans as he explodes against me, hips still moving as he pulses, wave after wave of deep-seated pleasure.

I can't stop staring at his face—lips parted, totally given over to his body's needs—so opposite from a seizure when his control is taken, but so very similar.

 _Where the fuck did that thought come from?_

I shiver to make it go away, and instead, I focus on the lazy smile spreading across his face.

Eyes still closed, he looks like he's high, and I can't help but giggle.

"What?" he murmurs, still feeling the dregs of pleasure, but aware enough to realize I'm here with him.

"You're gorgeous when you come," I whisper, and his eyes fly open, staring at me in wonder.

He pulls me as close as he can, burying his head against my shoulder.

"Could you … say that word again?"

My grin heats my cheeks.

"What word? Come?"

"Yeah, that's the one," he answers, letting his lips wander up my neck.

"What about … cock?"

"Ohhh," he groans, worshipping my neck.

"Or … fuck?"

"Jesus!" he exclaims. "If I could be hard right now, I would be. I had no idea hearing a girl say those words could—"

"—make you wanna _fuck_?" I finish for him, and I have absolutely no idea where that came from.

 _Hell, who am I kidding; yes, I do. I've been thinking about fucking him ever since that first moan when he rubbed against me._

"Christ, Bella. What's gotten into you?" he asks, raising those deep green eyes to mine.

Another shiver rolls through me. "I don't know. I just like to see you … excited."

"Well, I think you accomplished that this afternoon," he says, nibbling at my earlobe. "Was it the piano?"

 _Holy fuck, yes!_

"Maybe," I answer coyly. "That was totally amazing. I had no idea you could play like that."

He huffs out a laugh, his lips curling into my favorite crooked smile for the first time today.

"I had a _lot_ of free time after I quit basketball. And I was so damn angry about the whole fucking thing. I just threw myself into playing. I don't know if it's done anything to help the seizures, but it lets me … get lost for a while."

He grabs my hands, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of my fingers as he stares down at them.

"Thanks for … putting up with me. I know I can be a dick when I'm pissed off."

His admission startles a laugh out of me, and his grin is not entirely contrite.

"You weren't a dick—"

Green eyes flick up to mine.

"—well, not to me, anyway. Now, I don't know what you did before I got here …"

Edward chuckles then takes a deep breath.

"Yeah, I may need to apologize to my mom … and Emmett … and whatever was in that box I kicked the shit out of when I was looking for my ball—"

I laugh and so does he, and it's a beautiful sound. It would be the most beautiful sound I've heard all day if I hadn't just had the pleasure of listening to Edward come.

"But really, thank you," he says, his hand cupping my cheek and his eyes pulling me in, warm and content.

Our lips meet, gentle and soft, but the feeling is electrifying.

He's _happy_.

We kiss for a few moments, until he suddenly pulls back, those deep green eyes pinning me with their intensity.

"There was something I wanted to ask you yesterday but then everything went to shit, and I didn't get to. Would you … um … there's this dance thing over Christmas break—"

"The winter formal?" I exhale in a rush, and I blush as I realize I've run right over his proposal in my eagerness.

"Yeah, that," he says, chuckling. "Would you go? With me? I don't know—"

"Yes!" I all but yell, interrupting him again.

I attack his lips because now I'm the one who's happy, and we kiss in our little bubble until a wolf whistle makes us jump apart.

"Goddammit, Emmett!" Edward swears, but Emmett doesn't scowl back, he laughs.

"Glad you're feeling better," he says, shooting me a wink as he passes by the room, and Edward looks at me in confusion.

"How did you end up here anyway, Bella?" he asks, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh, I just really missed you at school today," I answer, preserving Emmett's secret. Not all secrets are terrible ones, after all.

* * *

A/N: I love young love, don't you? The piece Edward plays is Etude Tableaux op.33 #8 in G minor by Rachmaninoff; if you're interested in hearing it, there's a link to a ridiculously talented nine-year-old playing it in Shadow Fics (my facebook author page). See you on September 6th!


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

" **You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don't help."  
― Bill Watterson**

 **Edward**

"You gonna be okay today?" Emmett asks, and although I'd rather punch something, I just nod my head.

I missed half of Monday and all of yesterday, so that's weird to begin with since I usually only miss whole days to "skip school", but on top of that, I've got this massive fucking bruise to explain.

Monday's seizure was terrifying. Before Monday, the seizure Bella saw was the only one I've ever had outside the house, and that day, it came on so suddenly, I didn't really have time to panic.

But not this time. This time, I'd had the panic attack at school, so I was already shaky and worked up. When the aura hit, I just froze. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe—I knew I should lie down across the seats or at least move away from the car door, but none of that happened.

When I woke up, my throbbing head was in Mom's lap in the backseat, and she tried not to cry as she told me the pain was from where I'd bashed my head into the door as I seized in the moving car.

In the fucking _moving car_.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to hold back everything I'm feeling and to relieve the residual ache. Yesterday's headache was so bad I took as much codeine as Dad would give me and knocked myself out until the afternoon, but then I had to face everything, including the damage to my face.

I put down the car visor and look at myself in the mirror for what has to be the hundredth time since Monday—I had no idea bruises could get this fucking dark. I'm pretty sure I hit the hard plastic next to the window with my cheekbone—that's where most of the pain and tenderness is, anyway—but the bruising has spread completely above and below my eye.

I look like Emmett fucking decked me.

And if he hadn't protested, I definitely would have used that as a cover for what happened.

"It doesn't look that bad," Emmett says, glancing over as I poke and prod at the mottled skin.

I pause long enough to roll my eyes at him.

"Come on, it makes you look tough."

I can't contain my sarcastic huff. If only that were the case.

"No one will know what happened," he goes on, oblivious to my growing frustration. "And I'll—"

"I've got it, Emmett," I all but growl.

He purses his lips but says nothing more. Even he's smart enough to know when I'm about to lose my shit.

And except for the few hours Bella was at the house yesterday, I've pretty much felt like I'm about to lose my shit the entire time.

Bella.

She saved my ass on Monday, and then swept in yesterday like Mother Teresa of the pissed off—pulling me out of my misery just by listening to me bare my soul, anger and sorrow in words and notes.

Keeping _that_ secret seems like a piece of cake right now compared to keeping my seizures hidden.

I startle when Emmett's hand lands on my arm.

"You ready for this?"

We're in the parking lot already; I hadn't even noticed.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I tell him … and me.

I put on my sunglasses and wear them all the way to my locker, but the minute I take them off …

"Holy shit, Edward! What happened to your face?"

 _Okay, Edward, it's show time._

I smirk at Tyler as I glance over my shoulder.

"You should see the other guy."

"Who _was_ the other guy?" he asks, but I just shake my head.

"I don't kick ass and tell."

Tyler chuckles, and by now, everyone within earshot is listening.

"And here I thought you _didn't_ kick ass, Edward. You never seem to do it around here." Mike's gaze is hard, daring me to contradict him.

"Well, he did on Monday. It happened on school grounds, so he was suspended yesterday, dumbass. Didn't you know?" Jasper growls from beside me, and I nearly fall over as what he said sinks in.

Mike's face goes red as the guys around him try to stifle their snickers, and Tyler walks away, shaking his head.

Jasper waits for me while I grab my books, and we head down the hall before Mike can come up with a suitable retort.

"Thanks, Jazz," I mutter, feeling better than I have since the weekend.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" he asks, cocking his head at me.

 _Fuck. That didn't last long._

"Um …"

"Forget it," he spits out before I can come up with a suitable lie, and my stomach plummets to my shoes as I follow him into homeroom.

The rumor of my "suspension" spreads, and by the time biology rolls around, everybody's heard it. The junior and senior guys think it's hilarious while I've seen some of the younger guys looking at me with what I'd consider adoration. The girls just feel sorry for me, and I've had to avoid multiple fawnings this morning because I don't want Bella to get pissed off.

But I didn't see Lauren coming.

She sits in Bella's seat while I'm digging in the lab drawer for a pencil, and when I straighten up, she's _right there_ , her hand extended to my cheek.

"Aww, Eddie, can I kiss it and make it better?" she coos just as Bella walks into the room.

Her fingers brush my skin, and I try not to wince—at her words or the pain.

"I believe that's my … _seat_ ," Bella says, her tone low and dangerous.

"Oh, is it?" Lauren answers, still staring at me. "Not very good at … _keeping_ it, are you?"

She hops off Bella's stool lightly.

"I'll see you in Spanish, Edward," she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and I close my eyes and count to ten, not at all looking forward to what's coming.

"Edward?"

 _We're in a room full of witnesses—I shouldn't have to cover my balls, right?_

"Uh … yeah?"

"How's your head? Any better?"

 _Erm, I didn't just_ imagine _Lauren sitting here flirting with me, did I?_

"Um … it's okay. My cheek is still sore, though."

"Aww … can _I_ kiss it and make it better?" she asks, a devilish light in her eyes.

 _How the fuck am I not in trouble for this? Lauren was in Bella's chair!_

I shake my head until I remember that fucking hurts.

 _Just go with it. Who cares about why?_

"Sure," I answer, grinning as I lean toward her.

Bella glances over her shoulder, staring until she catches Lauren's eye, then she leans over and gently places her lips on my cheek. I can't help but turn my face until her lips meet mine, and we kiss until the bell brings us back to reality.

I stare at her in a daze, trying to catch my breath, but Bella looks over her shoulder and puckers her lips in Lauren's direction.

 _Whack!_

Lauren's book hitting the desk perfectly covers the sound of Bella's giggle as she turns back around, grinning like a cat who's swallowed several canaries.

"Don't get mad, get even," she whispers, and while I have to stuff my fist in my mouth to keep from laughing out loud, I can do nothing about the bulge rapidly growing in my pants.

Smartass Bella is sexy as _hell_.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

Lunch is a completely unwanted adventure in stress as the whole fucking room seems to be staring at my face.

 _I wish I had my damn sunglasses. They might attract a little less attention._

Bella and I sit down at our table, and the quiet tips me off that something's very wrong.

Angela, Ben, and Eric merely stare at me coldly, but Alice is definitely imagining ripping my dick off—or maybe something even worse.

"So whose ass did you kick, Edward?" Ben asks.

"Were you really suspended yesterday?" Eric chimes in.

I can feel Bella's eyes on me, but I know this game well enough to know I can't look at her before I answer. If I do, everyone will think I'm lying.

"I wasn't suspended," I answer shortly. "And as for my face, it's none of your damn business."

"Edward," Bella says, and when I look at her, her eyes are so brown and so sad.

 _Welcome to a day in the life of Edward Cullen._

"He didn't hurt anyone."

My eyes snap up to Bella's, but she's staring around the table, daring anyone to argue with her.

"He doesn't have to tell you what happened, but it's not what you're thinking."

"Bella—"

"No, Edward. They're not being fair," Bella says, putting her hand on my arm. "You haven't been hanging with Mike and his band of assholes for a while now, and I'm pretty offended that everyone at this table would assume the _rumors_ about this are true anymore than the rumors about anyone else."

"She's right," Alice says, and I have to duck my head to keep my chin from hitting the floor. "I'm sorry, Edward."

When I raise my eyes, she's smirking at me, and her hand is clasped with Jasper's.

"Sorry, man."

"Sorry."

Angela doesn't say anything, but her eyes look wet as she nods at me.

"Thanks," I mumble, no better able to handle this kind of attention than any other. But I feel as if a little of the weight of today has lifted from my shoulders.

Conversation begins again, and Bella squeezes my arm as she grins at me. I smile back at her for what feels like the first time in days.

The rest of the day isn't so bad. By afternoon, everyone's seen my face and decided what they want to believe, so the gawking and hushed whispers have died down. Spanish is an exercise in looking straight ahead, but I can feel Lauren's eyes on me the whole period, and by the time the bell rings, I'm ready to jump out of my skin.

I bolt, wanting to grab my shit and be at Bella's locker by the time she makes it up the hall from physics, but nothing in my life ever goes as fucking planned.

As I straighten up to hoist my bag on my shoulder, an arm wraps around my waist, and I know in a heartbeat it's not Bella's.

"When are you going to ask me to the winter formal, Eddie?" Lauren purrs in my ear, and it takes everything I have not to just spin around and punch her.

Instead, I grip her arm and turn, unwinding her from me as I put a reasonable distance between us.

"I'm _not_ going to ask you. Why the _fuck_ would you think I was?" I snarl, thinking about the way she treated Bella this morning.

"Oh, come on, Edward. Who else would you ask? Bella? I would have thought you'd gotten in her pants and would be over it by now. Certainly, you'll be done playing with her by Christmas and would want a respectable girl on your arm to be seen in public."

My blood boils so quickly it's a miracle I'm not vaporized, and this time, it's the thought of my mom's face if I get suspended for punching a girl that keeps my fists at my sides. But just barely.

"Lauren!" I bark, and I have to take a few deep breaths and clench my fists to stay in control. "Lauren, I'm dating Bella. I've already asked Bella to the dance, and we're going together. Why can't you get it through your fucking head? You and I have _never_ been together; we're _never going to be_ together! You think you're respectable? You've fucked every jock in the junior and senior classes, except for my brother, and that's only because Rosalie would kick your ass!"

"Edward—"

Lauren's eyes are as wide as saucers, and I can see the tears in them, but I don't fucking care. I'm so sick of all the bullshit I have to deal with I can't take one more thing, and I have to make her understand, once and for all.

"I don't fucking want you, Lauren! I never have! I'm with Bella, so leave me the fuck alone. Leave _her_ the fuck alone!"

I'm right up in her face, and I'm so focused on keeping my own hands down that I never see hers coming.

The slap hits my bruised cheek and snaps my head to the right, and I see fucking stars, leaning over and gasping from the pain.

"You're wrong, Edward. You and I were meant to be together, and I'm going to prove it to you!" Lauren yells, and she spins on her heel and stomps off down the hall.

"Fuck!" I bellow, and when I look up, I notice the large crowd, staring at me like I owe them something. I feel like my head is going to explode, the blood is pounding in my temples so fast, and I'm panting like I've run a marathon. I snap up my bag, and my fist finds my locker door, slamming it hard enough to rattle the entire row.

Suddenly, my arm feels like it's in a vice grip, and Emmett is propelling me up the hall.

"Fuck off!" I yell, but Em just grips tighter.

"We need to get you the fuck out of here," he growls, moving me bodily out the north-end door. Instead of heading for the car, though, he rounds the steps and takes me up the grassy hill, finally letting me go when we're almost behind the building.

"What the fucking—"

"Is there Xanax in your bag?"

I glare at him like he's deranged.

"Edward! Is there fucking Xanax in your bag?"

I'm still hyperventilating, shaking with rage, and his question makes absolutely no fucking sense to me.

He rips my bag off my shoulder with a frustrated growl and paws through it until he finds my pill bottle.

"Take one. Take fucking two before you have a goddamn seizure!" Emmett commands, thrusting the pills into my hand, and the fear in his eyes suddenly makes sense.

The rage pumping through my system turns to an ice-cold deluge of fear.

"No …"

"No?" Emmett asks, but I just shake my head, toss the pills into my mouth, and swallow them dry.

"Not here," I whisper, still gulping for air, but now it's from panic and not blinding anger.

"Here, sit," Emmett says, maneuvering my shoulders until my back contacts the brick wall of the school, and I slide down, crossing my arms over my drawn up legs and resting my head on them.

"Just breathe and try to calm the fuck down. Don't think about anything else."

I focus on my breathing, trying to will everything away but that.

 _In. Out. In. Out._

 _Slowly._

Em stands over me, positioned between me and the side of the school so that anyone coming around the corner would see him and not me.

It takes about five minutes, but finally, the block of ice in my chest thaws, and I can freely take in oxygen. Normally, this would mean I'm no longer lightheaded, but a double of Xanax is roughly equivalent to my limit in Rainier.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just … high. One Xanax probably would have done the trick."

"Oops. I'll remember that for next time," Emmett says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Help me up so I don't fall on my ass?" I ask, peering up at him with one eye closed.

"Sure."

And suddenly my feet are under me, and I'm holding Emmett's arm for balance.

"You okay to walk?"

"Yeah. Just … grab me if I stumble. Sometimes Xanax makes the fucking sidewalk come up and hit you in the face."

Emmett chuckles and walks down the hill beside me while I focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

 _This used to be easier, I swear._

"Edward!"

I hear my name as something solid propels me backward, but it turns into softness as Bella clings to me, holding me up.

"Oh, my God, are you okay? I stayed after physics, and when I came up, you were gone, and somebody said Lauren _slapped_ you?"

"She did," Emmett says, nodding, and it all comes back to me, and I wince as I touch my cheek.

"Oh, baby! What the fuck happened?" Bella exclaims, taking a step back, and when she lets go, I stagger backward until Em shores me up.

"Have you been _drinking_?"

"No! I got so fucking pissed at Lauren that Em thought I was gonna have a seizure, so I took two Xanax."

Bella goes completely still.

"What did that bitch say?"

"Why don't we go sit in my car so no one has to hold Edward up?" Emmett suggests, and I have to agree with him on that one. The world is pretty wiggly right about now.

Bella throws my arm over her shoulder, and although I'm sure it looks like I've just slung my arm over my girl to anyone who sees us, she's supporting a good bit of my weight and leading me in a straight line.

We get to the car, and I manage to get myself in, laying my head back and closing my eyes as Bella climbs in the back next to me.

Her hand brushes my bangs off my face, but her words are hard.

"Spill it, Cullen."

"She, um … wanted to know when I was going to ask her to the winter formal. So I told her fucking never because I'm with you. And then she slapped me and said I was wrong, and she'd prove it to me."

There's no sound from next to me, and even in my altered state, I know that's a very bad thing.

I raise my head and slowly turn to look at her, and even I'm fucking scared.

Bella glares, her lips a thin line, her nostrils flared with her heavy breathing. Her cheeks are a ruddy pink, and her brown eyes burn with dark fire.

"I'm going to fucking kill her."

"Edward thought about it," Em pipes up. "Good job not decking a girl, bro."

We fist bump, but Bella still hasn't moved.

"Bella?"

"I'm going to knock her right on her ugly little ass, then I'm going to—"

"Bella—"

"What?"

I scooch over to her, wrapping my arms around her and laying my head on her shoulder. "Please don't. I know she deserves it—"

"Edward, what would you do if a guy slapped _me_?"

"I'd bury him under the school flagpole after I tore him limb from limb, but this is _different_."

Bella huffs, but I stay where I am, holding her and trying to keep up my end of the conversation.

"Bella, you're better than her. You care about me and don't just want me as some trophy on your arm, and you know the truth about … well, everything. I need to get out of the spotlight at school as quickly as possible, and you having a catfight with Lauren is just going to drag this out. And I know you don't want to hear it, but I don't need a girl to fight my battles for me."

"It has nothing to do with that. She touched what's _mine_ ," Bella says, grazing her cheek against my head, and even in my relaxed state, my dick starts to harden.

"I _am_ yours, and she sees it every day, and she'll see it at the formal. Please, just … stay away from her? I told her to leave us alone, so we need to leave her alone too. Please?"

"Dammit," Bella swears, and I cuddle into her a little closer.

I tilt my head up and kiss her neck, then whisper in her ear. "Do you know what you being all protective makes me want to do to you? How much it turns me on?"

Bella softens against me, her hushed whimper a breath against my forehead.

I lift my head, and the world spins, so I shut my eyes tightly.

 _Fuck._

"But I really need to go home and sleep off this Xanax high that Emmett was nice enough to give me."

"Hey, bro—"

"I know, Em; I know. But I'm still high as a kite and can't kiss my girlfriend without my head fucking spinning. That's all I meant," I say, squinting to focus on him.

Bella kisses my cheek, and I grin drunkenly.

"I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It really did," I say, thinking back to Mike this morning and lunch and then Lauren McBruiseslapper.

"You go home, and we'll talk more about this tomorrow, okay? I promise I won't lay a finger on Lauren."

"Thanks, Bella," I tell her, giving her what I know are sloppy kisses, but I'm too fucked up to do any better.

"Emmett, you'll take care of him?" Bella asks, and Emmett nods, giving me a small smile.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow." Bella gives me one last kiss on my forehead, and then she's gone.

"Dude, you are one lucky man to have a girl who actually listens. My Rosie would be in orange right now if that were me, and there's not a thing in the world I could do to stop her."

 _Your Rosie couldn't keep a secret if it was tattooed between her tits._

But I say nothing and just put my head back, letting the motion of the car lull me to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Rough day for our boy, but he's pretty turned on by mama bear Bella. I wonder what she'll do? This week's pic tease is not so much a tease as an after the fact, but I didn't want to delay the posting just for pictures. Teaser in Shadow Fics next week, and I'll see you here on September 20!


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

" **Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." — Anais Nin**

 **Bella**

I told Edward I wouldn't lay a finger on Resting Bitch Face—I didn't say anything about keeping my mouth shut.

How _dare_ she fucking _slap_ him, and in the middle of the hall for the whole damn school to see? That was over the line and below the belt right there, but on top of that, she made sure to hit him where he was already hurting? If I hadn't made a promise to Edward, I would have driven right over to her house and—

 _No, you wouldn't have._

The thought echoes in my head as I stalk down the hall, and I hate to admit how much truth there is to it. The only person in this school I've given a piece of my mind to is Edward himself, which makes no sense because I actually _like_ him. Why can't I just _speak up_ when the situation calls for it? Getting Lauren's attention while I was kissing Edward yesterday was the ballsiest thing I've ever done, and that was only because I was pissed beyond reason and it didn't involve actually talking.

But today? Today I'm gonna give that bitch an earful if it's the last thing I do. She needs to know that Edward doesn't belong to her, and he never, ever will.

I slam my locker door, and Ang jumps beside me, flinching when she sees the look on my face.

"I guess you did hear about the Lauren and Edward standoff then?"

I glare at her, and I'm caught off-guard when she throws her arms around me and pulls me close.

"Don't let that bitch bother you. You know Edward wants nothing to do with her."

"Yeah, but she _slapped_ him. She hurt him in a way he couldn't defend himself, and she hit the bruised cheek too. She touched what's _mine_ ," I seethe.

"That's not all she did."

The Gothlet saunters up, hands clasps behind her, rocking back and forth as if that's what keeping some secret in.

"What?"

"She insulted you too. I was there."

"You _saw_ it?" I gasp.

"Of course, I saw it. Half the fucking school saw it! I would have chased her down after if she hadn't been surrounded by so many witnesses!"

Ang raises her eyebrows, but I shake my head to table the topics of chasing down and witnesses for later. Hearing Bitch Face's words from a credible source is _much_ more pressing.

"What did she say?"

" _Well_ ," The Gothlet says, leaning forward conspiratorially, "she said you weren't respectable enough for him, and Edward was only with you to get in your pants."

The first one makes my blood boil, but the second one hits so close to my own original thoughts that it turns my stomach a little.

"That bitch!" Ang exclaims, then blushes as everyone around us looks in her direction.

"Respectable? Who the hell does she think she is, the way she sleeps around!" I hiss, and The Gothlet giggles as she nods at me.

"That's exactly what Edward told her."

"What?"

"Oh, Bella, he was brilliant! He got right up in her face and told her they would never be together! If she hadn't clocked him like that, he would have been the clear winner of the bitch off. I don't know how he managed not to swing right back."

 _I do. It involved incredible restraint followed by copious amounts of Xanax._

But a smile creeps onto my face. _He told her they'd never be together?_

"… but you can't let her get away with it," The Gothlet finishes, looking at me expectantly.

"I know! But I can't slap her around, either. I promised Edward."

The Gothlet gapes at me, but of course I can't explain why I can't rearrange Bitch Face's face. _It wouldn't cause that much commotion, would it? And I'm so much better at swinging than hurling insults._

Suddenly, her lips curl into a wicked smirk, and her eyes blaze like some possessed anime character.

"You only promised _you_ wouldn't touch Lauren, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Edward can't control what I do. Leave this one to me, Bella," The Gothlet says, rubbing her hands together.

"Alice …"

"Oh, relax, Angela! I won't put her in the hospital or anything! It was only that one time, and it wasn't even my stiletto!"

The Gothlet turns on her heel and stalks down the hall, leaving Ang and me bewildered in her wake.

"She put someone in the hospital … with a shoe?" I ask.

Angela just shrugs at me.

The Gothlet's past is definitely a scarier place than I thought.

Murmurs swirl around Edward all day, but most of them seem to be sympathetic. _"Who the fuck slaps someone they want to date?" "That's cold to hit a guy where he's already hurt—he isn't even her boyfriend!"_

Edward weathers it all, tight-lipped and tense, clearly embarrassed by having to allow himself to be shown up by a girl. By sixth period, the whole thing is wearing on him, and he's disappeared to the nurse's office, claiming he has a headache, but I think he's just had it for the day and can't face sitting between Bitch Face and Bubble Butt for fifty minutes.

Thermodynamics and I aren't getting along, so I get back to my locker late, and the hallway is almost empty. As I gather my stuff at my locker, my thoughts stray to Edward.

 _I wonder if he fell asleep in the nurse's office again._

"If you have something to say to me, Bella, don't send the crazy Goth bitch after me. Have the balls to do it yourself."

I jump, dropping my bag with a loud thud as her words shoot adrenaline down my spine. This is it. This is my chance.

 _What the hell did Alice do?_

I turn around slowly.

" _I've got plenty of balls, and I didn't send anyone anywhere."_ That's what I want to say.

"I d-didn't—" I stutter, and my cheeks sting with heat.

"He's too good for you, Bella. I don't know why he's with you, but it's not because he really likes you. That's not the way he operates. I don't know what his game is, but when it ends, he's going to dump you, and the whole school is going to be laughing at you. Why don't you just save yourself the trouble and let him go to the dance with me?"

"No …"

 _No, I won't let him go? No, he's not like that? Or, no, it can't be true?_

I want so much for it to be the first or the second, but I think my response is the third one. What she's saying makes so much sense—it's what The Gothlet thought and what I worried about at first—and I hate Bitch Face even more for making me hesitate. For making me doubt him.

"He _will_ be mine," Bitch Face sneers, taking a step toward me, but suddenly, The Gothlet is between us.

"I _told_ you to leave her alone, but you didn't take me seriously, did you?" The Gothlet says in a quiet, deadly voice.

There's a flash of silver, and Bitch Face's eyes widen.

"Holy shit! You're fucking crazy!" she yells, taking a few steps backward.

"Stay. Away. From Bella!" The Gothlet yells back, stomping her foot loudly and feinting as if she's about to launch herself at Bitch Face, who takes off sprinting down the hall.

 _Holy fuck, is that a—_

I gasp as The Gothlet turns toward me, folding a shiny black knife blade back into its handle.

"Jee- _sus_!"

"What?" she asks nonchalantly, now cool as a cucumber. "Like I'd actually _knife_ her in the middle of the school hallway. What a moron."

"Yeah," I squeak, followed by a high-pitched giggle. _She's holding a fucking knife!_

The Gothlet's eyes shoot up to mine. "Oh, come on, Bella! It's just a small stiletto! His name is Ivan."

 _Well, this explains a few things about our previous conversation. Mental note: tell Ang that The Gothlet did_ not _attack someone with a shoe. And that we are stupid._

But I can't take my eyes off the metal in The Gothlet's hand.

"Ivan?"

"Yeah," she says, grinning, and I jump three feet and nearly piss my pants when she releases the blade again to show me.

"Gosh, you're jumpy, Bella. What did she say to you?"

 _Could I possibly be jumpy because you're waving a freaking knife around? No! That couldn't be it!_

I breathe a sigh of relief as she sheathes Ivan again, but it catches in my throat as I remember Bitch Face's words.

 _No. That can't be how this is gonna end. We've shared too much. He's different now._

"Nothing she hasn't said before. Thanks for … uh …"

 _Knifing your way in?_

 _Saving me scary Goth style?_

 _Scaring the fuck out of both of us?_

"… jumping in when you did, but I was okay. I was gonna tell her what to go do with herself," I say with as much confidence as I can muster, but I know it's not true. I was gonna stand there and let her tongue lash me, like I always do.

Anger flairs in my chest, and I know I need to be alone right now.

"Alice, I gotta go. Charlie's home tonight, and I need to get dinner started. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

The Gothlet assesses me, her head cocked to the side, and if she sees the yellow streak down my back, she chooses to ignore it.

"Okay, Bella. If you're sure you're all right."

"I'm fine. I'll see you in homeroom tomorrow," I say, turning to retrieve my bag from the floor.

Alice drops a hand on my shoulder, but she walks away without a word, and I'm so lost in my thoughts I hardly even notice.

 _Why am I such a coward? What is it that ties my tongue when I need to stand up for someone—when I need to stand up for myself?_

I have no answers, and that makes me even angrier. I just … can't. It's all there in my head, planned and ready to deliver, but it just stays there, mocking me. I like to think I'm immune to peer pressure and have my own mind, but when it comes right down to it, I'm just like everybody else because I can't actually say the words. No one knows I'm different because it's all in my fucking head.

"Argh!" I yell, slamming my palms against the steering wheel as I sit in my driveway. I don't know how long I've been here, but I think it's a while because it's starting to get dark.

 _You're no different. You're nothing special—what does Edward see in you anyway? Why would he change "the way he operates" for you?_

Bitch Face's words come at me where I'm weak, and they take hold.

Edward has a way he operates? What does that even mean?

 _It means he's never been serious about anyone_ , my subconscious helpfully supplies.

But I know this. He can't let anyone get close because they'd find out about his epilepsy.

 _Is that the real reason—the whole reason?_

Yes. It has to be because I … I love him, and I think he loves me.

Giving that feeling of … everything a name loosens the knot in my stomach, and I cling to it.

Everything. He's my everything.

I'm in love with him.

My heart flutters and expands in my chest, but my head is still speaking in the voice of Bitch Face.

 _I don't know why he's with you, but it's not because he really likes you. That's not the way he operates._

I glance at my house, and I realize I can't go in there. Charlie is working second shift—I lied to The Gothlet—and if I go in there alone, that little voice in my head is gonna taunt me, and tear me down, and convince me that Edward is using me, and I'm not worthy of anyone's love, let alone his.

What I need … is him.

I need Edward.

I need him to look at me the way he does—like I'm the only girl on the planet.

I need him to touch me, like I'm something to be worshipped and he can't believe he's with me.

I need him, and I need him now, and I can't even call him and take the risk that he'll tell me it's not a good time. I just have to go.

I fly across town, thinking of nothing other than getting there, but once I'm in his driveway, sanity smacks me in the face, and I realize I have no idea what I'm going to say to him.

 _Hi, Edward. Lauren told me you're going to fuck me and run. Is that true?_

 _Hi, Edward. My head says I'm not good enough for you, even though I've just admitted to myself that I'm in love with you. Can you convince me otherwise?_

I rest my head against the steering wheel. _I should just go home._

"Fuck!" I scream as a loud tap sounds next to my head. Edward is standing next to my truck, cringing in apology as I hold my hand over my pounding heart.

"Sorry!" he exclaims as I roll the window down.

"You scared the fuck out of me," I tell him unnecessarily, still trying to calm down.

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't know how to get your attention _without_ scaring the fuck out of you. What are you doing here?"

And there it is—warm green eyes drinking me in as if I'm the only girl he's ever seen. His gaze sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with cold, and I know this was the right decision, even if it goes downhill from here and I come off as crazy stalker girlfriend for showing up unannounced and uninvited. I needed this.

And now I drink _him_ in—burnished copper hair scattered carelessly but oh so perfectly across his forehead, eyebrows slightly drawn together in confusion, but a soft smile still drawing up his lightly scruffy cheeks. He's happy to see me, no matter the reason.

But he _did_ ask me the reason.

"I …" I feel the tears well up, and when I close my eyes, they spill over, and suddenly, the truck door is open and I'm in his arms.

I press my head against his chest and clasp my hands behind his back, and he cradles me, his arms encircling low around my waist.

"What is it? I couldn't find you after school, and you didn't answer your phone, so I came home with Emmett—"

I sob against his chest, letting all my fears and frustrations go in a torrent of gasps and whimpers, and he just holds me, squeezing me tight every few seconds to try to calm me.

"Are you worried about me? Because I'm fine; today was no big deal. I just got a tension headache in the afternoon—it only lasted a few hours."

"I'm glad you're okay," I whisper. My tears are slowing, but I'm still clinging to him as if my life depends on it.

"Hey," he says, tipping my chin up so I'm tossed into troubled seas of mesmerizing green, "did something happen?"

A sudden shiver rolls through him, and I realize that it's actually freezing outside, and although the truck cab is warm, Edward is standing outside without a coat.

"You're freezing," I murmur, grateful for the excuse to deflect his question. I don't know how to begin to tell him everything that's swirling my head, and I honestly don't know if I can or should.

"I should go—"

"Can you stay?"

Our words overlap, and I can't help but smile a little at the concern I see in his eyes. We don't do this on school nights because of his need for sleep, but there's no way he's going to let me go without knowing more about what's bothering me.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Please, Bella? My homework's done, and I was worried about you so I was going to call you soon anyway, and then you show up here, so upset …"

After the week he's already had, I just can't bear the thought of causing him any more stress, so I nod, and Edward pulls me from my truck and into the house.

He heads straight for his room, and although I've been there quite a few times before, it's never been with the whole family home, so I hesitate halfway up the stairs. When he realizes I'm not following, he comes back and takes my hand, leading me as he explains.

"We're allowed to be in my room as long as we keep the door open, and I wanted some semblance of privacy."

I slide onto his bed, one leg bent in front of me, and he mirrors my position, taking my hand. I want to just throw my arms around him again and soak up as much of him as I can, but I know he's too curious to let this go—crying isn't normally my thing.

"Bella, what happened? Please tell me?"

"Lauren—"

"What the fuck did she do? I _told_ her to stay away from you," Edward growls, fingers combing through his unruly hair the way they always do when he's stressed.

"Did she lay a hand on you? So help me, I'll—"

"She didn't touch me," I say hurriedly, although it would have been satisfying to hear him finish that sentence, even if he wouldn't have actually done it.

"She just said some things …"

 _Tell me she's lying. Tell me she knows nothing about us._

Edward huffs in frustration; I can see he's getting worked up, but he's trying to hold it in check. He places his hands on my cheeks, his gaze pulling me in and holding me.

"Bella, I don't like Lauren. I never did. We fooled around last year, but it wasn't serious—I wouldn't have wanted her to be my girlfriend even if I could have."

I stare into his eyes and find no deception there, and relief washes over me in a welcome wave.

 _I believe you. You can't fake what I see in your eyes. This is real._

"Lauren's not—I mean, fuck—she's not even _close_ —"

"She's not … what?"

He smiles and looks down, his cheeks suddenly reddening.

"She's not … _you_."

Did you ever see _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_? When the Grinch's heart expands three sizes and pulses, barely contained in his chest with the true joy of Christmas? That's me in this moment.

"I don't even really know what that means," he says, chuckling awkwardly.

 _I do. It means you love me, but you don't know it yet._

"But I know I've never wanted … _really_ wanted … a girlfriend before you. I just … and you worry about me, and you make it all so much easier to deal with … and you're so … Jesus, what the fuck am I saying?"

"I know what you're saying," I tell him, and he glances downward, smiling as he shakes his head.

"I bet you do. You always seem to know—that's one of the things that's so great about you."

That one hits me right in the chest—square in the heart—and radiates happiness in every direction, but he doesn't see it because he's still looking downward, his lips drawn tightly in a frown.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. You shouldn't have to put up with any shit over me—"

"Hey," I say, grasping his chin because I want him to see how happy he's made me, but he pulls away.

"I mean it. I come with so much fucking" —he throws his hands in the air— "baggage and you shouldn't have to—"

"I don't care," I tell him, squeezing his hand.

 _I love you._

I want to say the words so badly, but I know after I do there's no turning back. My heart already knows it belongs to him, but my head is still trying to protect me, and once I tell him my heart is his, the only way I'll ever get it back is in pieces, so I have to be sure.

 _God, I'm so sure._

But my yellow streak doesn't only apply to angry words and snotty bitches. So I take another path.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this either, but you do. I wish Lauren and the seizures and all the stress would just leave you alone. I wish I could make that happen, but I can't. What I _can_ do is be with you. That's all I want to do, Edward. Just be with you."

I can't tell him any more with words, and I think I'm afraid of any response he might have, so I reach up and grab hisface, and before he can say anything, my lips are pressed against his. I kiss him slowly and deeply, my fingers sliding up into his hair as my lips worship his, and when his tongue reaches out, I eagerly welcome him in.

"I don't deserve you," he mumbles, and I know I can't answer that one with kisses.

"Yes, you do." _You deserve happiness and love. You deserve everything._

I'm sure he's hard, but the moment doesn't feel sexual. It's more about emotional connection because, although he's as close to me as he can get, he doesn't grind against me or push for anything more. I think he's attempting communication through make out as much as I am, and I think we're both getting the message.

Somehow, we end up lying facing each other on his bed, our lips idly exploring as he brushes my hair from my cheek.

"Did you fall asleep in the nurse's office today?" I ask as I gently squeeze his hip.

"Yeah, but the bell woke me up. Where were you?"

"I stayed after physics again. I don't know what the hell is going on in that class."

"I'll help you," he says, his smile eager and eyes bright.

Bitch Face is dead wrong— _this_ is the way Edward operates. This is the guy I fell in love with, and he's all mine. She will never know this side of him; the thought makes me feel as warm and fuzzy inside as the boy staring back at me.

"Okay."

So he pulls out his physics book, and I do everything I can to pay attention to the meaning of his words and not just the deep, velvet sound of his voice as he takes me through the laws of thermodynamics.

"What?"

He's grinning at me, and my cheeks heat as I realize I've been caught staring at him and not his book, and there's a good chance there's drool in the corner of my mouth.

"What? Nothing!" I stammer. A quick glance down at the book saves my ass. "Well, zero, actually. Zero entropy as the temperature approaches zero, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," Edward says, unable to contain his chuckle.

I am _so_ busted, but he doesn't say a word; the smile nearly splitting his face says more than enough.

Normally, I'd be pissed at myself for feeding his ego, but I think Bitch Face already emasculated him enough for one week—he could probably use the boost. And it's possible that over the last few hours, I've morphed into some kind of starstruck, lovesick teenager.

By ten-fifteen, he's yawning—today sucked for both of us and being stressed out takes a lot of energy.

I flop back on the bed, and he follows suit, shutting the book and dropping it to the floor with a loud thunk.

He closes his eyes, and I'm struck by how relaxed he looks. I bet he's adorable when he's asleep.

"I should go," I say, but his eyes snap open, and he captures my wrist as I make to sit up on the bed.

"Don't go yet," he says sweetly, but his eyes are droopy and the shadows under them look dark.

"Are you getting enough sleep?"

He rolls his eyes at the question, but I soften it by leaning over and brushing my lips against his.

"Are you?"

"Probably not, but it's not for lack of trying. Some nights my brain just won't shut off, and this week—"

"Yeah, me too," I tell him as I lie back down again.

"Just for a little bit," he pleads, but his half-smile tells me he knows he's already won. "So, who do you think is gonna end up on the Iron Throne?"

I can't help the chuckle that escapes my lips—Edward is usually pretty turned on when I talk nerdy to him—I don't know why he's wasting this on a night when he's too tired to unsheathe his Valyrian steel.

"Well, we know Dany will be a major threat to the Seven Kingdoms …"

As I expound upon my theory, Edward's eyes slowly drift shut, then pop open as he does battle with the gravitational forces attacking his eyelids. I lose my train of thought, but I keep spewing random nonsense about Westeros just to keep my voice even so I don't disturb the sound that's lulling Edward to sleep.

Once he loses the battle with gravity, his chin slips down toward his shoulder, and he sighs as if the weight of the day has been lifted from him.

He's devastatingly handsome.

It seems like every time I stare, Edward himself or some other asshole catches me, so I take advantage of this rare opportunity. I want to press my thumb between his eyebrows to relieve the slight crease, trace the pout of his feather-soft lips. Do his sideburns feel the same as the scruff on his chin? It feels like I can't go another moment without knowing the answer, but I can't bear the thought of disturbing him when he looks so peaceful.

 _I love you._

I slide off the bed inch by inch, but Edward is out cold—he mumbles something unintelligible and curls on his side as I stand up.

I can't resist the urge to brush the hair back from his forehead, lingering for a moment as I let the warmth spread and consume me.

My heart belongs to him, and I need to work up the courage to put him on notice, come what may.

Bitch Face can go fuck herself. He's perfect, and we're good enough for each other.

* * *

A/N: Eeeee! So they're both in love; but, when will they tell each other? Argh, I hate to do this, but there's going to be a posting gap after this chapter. Too much RL in the next few weeks. My goal is to post Chapter 27 in a month, on October 18th. Send good vibes that Edward and I can get this where it needs to be by that time! Love you guys!


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

" **The difference between sex and love is that sex relieves tension and love causes it."  
― Woody Allen**

 **Edward**

"Oh, _fuck,_ yes!"

 _So fucking good, but …_

My eyes pop open when I realize there's a "but". What the hell is the "but"?

Bella is below me—a vision as she moans and arches against me, her hair fanned out on her pillow like some wet dream-worthy goddess of porn. My dick is harder than a fucking diamond, but I'm still managing to _squeeze_ it as I thrust against her—my eyes damn near rolling right out of my head every time I slam into her pubic bone. The pain from digging my teeth into my lip is the only thing keeping me from launching a nuclear come war all over Bella's chest—

What, in the name of all that is holy, is the motherfucking "but"?

… _but we could be_ inside. _Warm and wet and so fucking tight—that delicious pussy just squeezing the jizz right—_

"Uunngghh!" I groan as my orgasm takes me on an acid trip— _ooo, pretty colors_ —and I come all over Bella's chest and panties.

I fall sideways and lie there, panting, fulfilled but … not.

My dick is a greedy little fucker—always wanting more and bringing it up at the worst possible times. Like when I should be enjoying the best grind session I've ever had, for instance. But it _would_ be epic to be inside of her. My dick wants to pound her into next week, but locations farther north … I want to make love to her. I want to look in her eyes as I get closer to her than I've ever been to another human being … as I lose track of where she ends and I begin …

 _Christ Almighty! When did we grow a vagina?_

Can it, dick-voice! You know—

"Edward?"

I startle as I realize where I am, and I peek sheepishly at her from between my arms, which are crossed over my head—where I landed haphazardly after drenching Bella in come.

"Uh … hi."

"You've been quiet for a while," Bella informs me, a sweet smile on her face as she lies on her back next to me, naked except for the white cotton panties currently hosting jizz nation.

"Um … sorry for—"

Her gorgeous laugh chases whatever I was going to say right out of my head.

"Well, that was the whole point, wasn't it?"

I snort and can't keep the smirk off my face as I stare at her comforter with warm cheeks. I can eat her out like she's the grand slam breakfast at Denny's but, lately, talking about any of it turns me into some fucking blushing Southern belle. What the hell is the matter with me?

"I'm sorry you didn't … um …"

"Come?" she offers helpfully, and my cheeks sting again, but my dick does his seen-to but never satisfied best to twitch and engorge.

"It's okay. I got mine earlier. Can you hand me some tissues?"

Her nonchalance continues to floor me—two months ago she'd never gotten a guy off, and now she wipes up come like it's spilled milk and says dirty words because she likes to see me get excited.

 _Yes, but saying and doing are two entirely different things_ , my dick grumbles, still lamenting his lack of a back-stage pass. Sigh.

I hand Bella her tissues, and as she sits up, I can't help but palm one of her tits. Damn. These things are _so_ soft and _so_ fluffy, and—

" _Excuse_ me?" Bella asks, dropping her chin and raising her eyebrows as she glances down at the boob I'm jiggling in my hand.

"Um …"

"Edward, let's talk," she says as she finishes cleaning up, and my heart, stomach, and libido drop into Bella's basement.

 _Oh, no, I fondled the boobs too much. She's gonna cut off my titty time, or something worse …_

"Okay. Did I do something … wrong?"

"No! Of course not!" she says, shaking her head, which makes her tits bounce like—

 _Don't look down, Edward! Whatever you do, do_ not _look down!_

"I just … are you … happy … with us? I mean …"

Now _she's_ blushing, and all I want to do is trace the flush as it rolls down her neck and bare chest, but she's trying to ask a serious question.

"Of course, I am, Bella. I love—"

 _Don't wuss out, don't wuss out! Be a man and just_ tell _her—_

"I love being with you."

 _You, Edward Cullen, are a colossal wuss-tard. Sovereign lord of the wuss nation. Emperor of wussapotamia—_

Bella's smile warms me, and although it's awesome, it could have been so much more. This could have been the moment, but I fucking wussed out.

"I love being with you, too. But I meant … are you happy with what we're doing? Is it … enough for you?"

Dick-voice suddenly transforms into the Mormon Tabernacle Choir singing the "Hallelujah" chorus and it's so fucking distracting that I have to squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to focus.

 _Tell her we wanna fuck, tell her we wanna fuck, tell her we_ need to _fuck!_

Do girls have to argue with their vaginas this way? Are they pushy and demanding and emotionally unstable like the sex-addicted toddler I have to deal with? Somehow, I doubt it.

My head (the northerly one) takes firm control of this discussion because I know there are a hundred and one ways to fuck this up, and I don't want anything to do with any of them.

I sit up and face her, completely ignoring the exclamation point between my legs as I take her hand between mine.

"I love the stuff we do together. You let me touch you, and … lick you, and when you get me off, it's fucking amazing—"

 _Yes, yes, go on! Here's the part where you tell her we wanna have a fuck fest!_

Bella smirks and blushes adorably, lowering her eyes in a way that sends a jolt to my groin.

"But …" she leads off, flashing her eyes up to mine.

 _This is it! Go for it! Right now, fucker!_

"Well … I _am_ a guy," I mumble, clearing my throat so my voice will be stronger, "so I'd love to—"

 _Fuck your brains out!_

 _Screw you into next week!_

 _Pound my massive cock into—_

"—do it with you."

 _GOOOOAAAAALLLLLL! Wait … what?_

Oh my God. 'Do it with you?' I sound like a fucking twelve-year-old.

 _You got that right, asshole._

Heat roars up my chest to my cheeks, and I don't think I can ever look at her again.

" _Do it_ with me?"

 _Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!_

"Um … can I try that again?" I ask, glancing up at her as I rake my hand through my hair.

She nods solemnly, and I can't tell if she's putting me on or she's legitimately pissed.

 _We're gonna blow this; I know it. Then we'll be back to dating rosy palm and—_

I take a deep breath, grab her hand again, and when I look into her eyes, I'm suddenly calmer.

"I meant I would really like to make l-l-love to you."

Her eyes widen in shock, so I backpedal immediately.

"But what we're doing is fine—it's great, actually! We can wait until you're ready, or—"

 _Nooooooo! What the bloody hell are you saying? We can't_ wait _another goddamn day!_

"Edward, it's okay," she says, running her fingers up my arm. "I figured you wanted to, but I'm just … I don't know … it's a big step."

"I know, and I want you to be sure."

 _Holy fuck, we don't care if she's sure! All we care about is if she's wet and ready!_

I want to punch myself in the junk right now because dick-voice is making this _much_ more difficult than it needs to be. Dammit! But if he was howling in pain, I likely would be too, and then I wouldn't be able to talk to Bella at all. Not to mention how it would look if I tried to punch my dick out while we're talking about sex. I'm not freaky, noooo …

Bella's smile is spectacular, and it completely distracts me from the violence I'm plotting against my dick.

She throws her arms around me and slides into my lap, but I focus on kissing her and give my dick none of the friction he's craving. Ungrateful son of a bitch.

Oops, that's my mom I'm talking about.

My focus snaps back to Bella as her nipple brushes against my chest. God, I fucking love how soft her skin is and how it feels when it rubs against mine. I groan into her mouth, and my hips flex without my permission, my aching dick sliding against her cotton-clad pussy as if he didn't just get his less than a half hour ago.

We set up a rhythm of arch and grind, but this time, our lips are locked and my dick is pressing on her clit with every pass. She starts moaning in time with my thrusts, and heat floods toward the tips of my toes and up to my ears as twinges of pleasure make my abs tighten in anticipation.

Oh, God, I'm gonna come again. I can't get enough of her, and I can barely last long enough to get her off before I—

"Oh, oh, Edward, I'm—"

"Oh, f-f-fuck-k-k!"

We shudder against each other as we come, her fingers gripping my hair as our lips come back together in a ferocious kiss. For once, my dick is utterly silent except for some incoherent moaning … or is that me?

She relaxes against me, her head resting on my shoulder as she pants, her hands now spread on my back. And it feels fantastic. Blowing a load is awesome, but I'm finding that holding her close as we come down from our highs is almost as good. And I don't give a fuck if that makes me sound like a pussy.

She pulls away a little, looking down and giggling.

"I think we made a mess again."

I just laugh and shake my head.

"Yeah, we're getting pretty good at that."

We stay joined at the hips, but as I reach to one side for the tissues, she reaches to the other to turn around her alarm clock.

"It's almost ten. I should take you home."

And there's reality. I'm a seventeen-year-old boy with a bedtime because otherwise, my body can't keep it together. It's Wednesday night, and Chief Charlie is pulling a double, and I could stay for another hour at least, but instead, I have to go get my fucking "beauty" sleep, as Bella likes to call it. Goddammit.

"Hey," Bella says, gripping my chin between her thumb and forefinger, "at least you got to come over. No homework the week before Christmas break would never have happened at my old school."

I do my best to muster a smile as Bella slides off my lap. I know she's right, and I should be happy—I haven't had a seizure in almost two weeks, the bruise from that disaster in mom's car has finally faded, and Lauren has been eerily quiet, which has allowed the buzz about her clocking me to die down. And Bella and I have been humping like dogs in heat—that ungrateful bastard between my legs has never had it so good.

But I'm feeling … edgy. Although I'm doing everything I can to take care of myself, I'm still a bit fucked up over almost having another seizure at school. What if it happens again and Bella _isn't_ there to save my ass? Will I be able to keep it together and get myself out of there? Will my body give me enough warning? It seems as if the time between the myoclonics and the grand mals is getting shorter, but that could just be my imagination. I'm a bit paranoid over anything seizure-related these days—well, a bit _more_ paranoid.

I rub my temple absently and stare out the window into the darkness as Bella drives. Her hand lands on my thigh, and an unexpected wave of icky washes over my insides. I love her. I really do, and I'm so sure now, even if I can't manage to say the words out loud. But I hate the way things started. I hate that I lied, and it all goes back to that. I wish I could go back and tell her the truth when Emmett told me to, but I was too fucking terrified of losing the only person who's ever known about my condition and managed to still see … me. I wish she never would have witnessed me have a seizure—that way I could have seen her as just another girl and been attracted to her. Maybe things would have ended up just as they are, and I would have told her about my condition. Maybe.

But I'll never know because I did this to protect myself. That always has to come first. But instead of making me feel safe like it used to, now it just makes me feel hollow. And I don't know what that means.

I feel like I know less about who I am and what I want than when this school year began—how is that even possible?

"One more day," Bella says, smiling at me as she rolls to a stop in front of my house.

"What?"

"One more day. Until Christmas break? I wish you didn't have to go to Chicago."

"Oh, right. Yeah, me too. I'll miss you," I tell her, sliding across the seat of her truck and putting my arm around her. "At least my parents put off the trip so we can still go to the dance, though."

Em and I pitched a fit until Mom brought out the waterworks, and Dad threatened to ground us for all of January, but we're still fucking stuck going to my grandparent's in Chicago from the day after the dance until the day before school starts again.

"I'm so glad," Bella says, and when her lips meet mine, it washes away all the icky and confusion, and all I can feel is her softness and heat as she melts into me.

"Go on; it's getting late," she whispers, pulling back a little.

I want to chase after her with closed eyes and puckered lips, but I know it'll likely land me an admonishment about needing to take care of myself.

And I know she's right. Fuck.

"O-o-kay-y-y," I whine, turning on the charm as I peck at her lips with chaste kisses, and she giggles as she shoves me away. "I'll see you in homeroom."

"See you," she calls, her eyes dancing as she waves me off into the house.

All in all, today was a pretty damn good day.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I never make it to homeroom on Thursday, but I'm actually relieved because things play out the way they should for a seizure day—the myoclonics hit before I make it downstairs for breakfast, and when the big one comes, I'm lying in my bed and ready for it. Thank God for small fucking favors.

Christmas Eve with a raging headache sucks balls, but it eases off in time for dinner so I can actually enjoy my holiday. Bella and I text back and forth, but we do the family thing on Christmas day. Not by choice, mind you. If it were up to me, she'd have been in nothing but red panties and a Santa hat, and I'd have been a _very_ bad boy. Needless to say, I may have kept my napkin in my lap and sat at the dining room table a little longer than social grace dictated after Christmas dinner.

Emmett managed to notice and he laughed so hard, I considered microwaving his new Madden 11 disc and serving it to him for dessert with whipped cream and a cherry. If I could have gotten up, that is.

Stupid fucking hormones.

"You ready yet?" Emmett hollers from downstairs.

 _Am I?_

I look myself over in the mirror—black suit, black dress shirt, blue tie and handkerchief in my pocket to match Bella's dress. I _look_ ready, but anxiety is still churning in my gut, heightened by the knowledge that anxiety can bring on seizures. I should be good. I just had one three days ago, but tonight I've got to get through Rosalie's charming attitude since we're riding with her and Emmett, seeing Bella's dad again when we pick her up for the dance, and then asking Bella to stay over at my house tonight.

Yes, you heard that right. Mom is in Chicago already, and Dad is working the night shift, so Em and I have decided to have a little slumber party. Although I doubt there'll be much sleeping. Or at least, I'm _really_ hopingnot.

My dick twitches, but it's a feeble attempt—too much other shit to worry about between now and when his copulatory dreams might come true.

"Edward!"

 _You got this. Everything will be fine._

"Yeah, Em, don't get your balls in a twist! I'm coming!"

I hurry down the stairs, but I have to catch myself on the post at the bottom—I've got one Xanax on board and one in my pocket, just in case. I'm a little woozy, but it's better than hyperventilating over another encounter with Chief Feed-my-balls-to-the-bears.

I skid to a halt in the kitchen, and Em and I regard one another.

"You look like Justin Timberlake on a bad hair day."

"And you look like a baboon in a burrito."

"Fucker."

"Asshole."

I duck as he swings an arm to grab me, but I know he won't. Normally, I hate that and try to get him to take a swing at me anyway, but tonight, I did spend a pretty long fucking time trying to tame my hair.

"Let's go. Rosie gets bitchy when I'm late."

"Blame it on me; she hates me anyway."

Em looks like he wants to say something, but he just shakes his head. Rose's attitude toward me comes straight from all the things she can't know, and we both know it. There's nothing to be done.

Em grabs our little flower things from the fridge, and we haul ass to Rose's house. As he parks, his eyes find mine in the rearview mirror.

"No drinking tonight. I'm not leaving early, I'm not babysitting your ass, and if you piss Rosie off somehow and I don't get mine, I'm going to tell everyone I caught you and Jasper making out."

"That's fucking harsh! Why would you do that to Jasper? He could do so much better—"

"Ed."

"All right! I wasn't planning on drinking anyway because we have to fly tomorrow. Dad will be pissed if we have to cancel, and a seizure on an airplane sounds like a pretty accurate definition of hell."

"Good," Em says, nodding. Then his eyes flick downward. "And … later on … just … bag it up, yeah?"

My eyes widen, and I swear my eyebrows brush the roof of the car.

 _A sex talk? From the lech of the locker room? Seriously?_

"Fucking hell, Em! You gonna tell me about the birds and the bees too? _You_ bag it up!"

"I do!" he exclaims, his cheeks now a furious red. "Not that it's any of your damn—"

"Yours either!"

"Okay, okay! Fuck! I'm just looking out for you, asshole!" Em yells, palming the back of his neck.

"Consider me looked out for," I huff, crossing my arms. "Isn't your girlfriend waiting?"

Emmett sighs loudly as he gets out of the car, and I feel a pang of remorse. It's not as if he said I'm too young or tried to talk me out of it. In all honesty, he's the reason I _am_ prepared—the strip of condoms in my pocket are from his porn drawer. Maybe I'll replenish his stock for him as a thank you.

It isn't long until Em and Rosalie are headed toward the car. I watch as they stare at each other with goo-goo eyes—that is until Rose notices me.

She stops dead as her lips twist into a sneer, and her head whips toward Emmett. They're so close, and she's so fucking loud that I can hear her through the car windows.

" _Emmett!_ What. Is. He. Doing. In. The. Car?"

 _Oh, bloody hell, Em didn't_ tell _her we were going with them?_

"Now, Rosie—"

"'Now, Rosie,' my ass! You told me _never_ again! Why do we always get _saddled_ with _babysitting_ his spoiled ass? Why the _hell_ can't he drive his own date to the dance? Does he even have a license? Or is he—"

The sudden lines of pain across my palms let me know how tightly my fists are clenched. I've been focused on keeping my breathing steady and even and not getting out of the car and telling the Queen of Complaints that my life is none of her goddamn business.

 _Thanks for this extra treat, Emmett, you fucking dickhead. I owe you one._

"Rose." Em's voice is rough and commanding as he stops her, hands gripping her shoulders. "Dad asked me to drive us both since it's supposed to snow later tonight. Come on, it's Christmas! Can't we all just get along?"

"He better not get drunk tonight. If he and that skank of a girlfriend of his interfere with our plans—"

And now I'm out of the car.

"What the fuck did you call her?"

Emmett's forearm hits my chest like a brick wall three feet from Rosalie, which is probably a good thing because I have no idea what I was about to do.

"All right! Everybody calm the _fuck_ down. Rosie, Edward isn't going to drink tonight, and he's not going to interfere with anything. Edward, Rosie didn't mean to say that about Bella—"

"Oh yeah? I don't hear _her_ apologizing!" I yell, still panting and pressed against Emmett's arm.

"Rose?" Em says, raising his eyebrows at her.

Rosalie glares at me stubbornly.

"You should be with Lauren. For some reason, she thinks you're the one for her and—"

"Rose! That's not an apology," Emmett barks, clearly losing patience. "Goddammit, he's my brother, for fuck's sake, and if you can't—"

"All right, all right! I'm sorry!" Rosalie exclaims, raising her hands in front of her. Then she looks toward me but doesn't meet my eyes. "I'm … sorry, Edward."

Em sighs, placated for the moment, but I'm still furious. How _dare_ Princess Plastic say anything about Bella! She wouldn't know a real human being if they walked up and ripped off her fake eyelashes! Fucking bitch! And what was that about Lauren? I know Rosalie doesn't give a rat's ass about who I date—is she actually fucking friends with Lauren? Maybe I should pay more attention to this kind of shit—it would be just my luck that my own personal stalker bitch and my brother's bloody prom queen are besties!

I shake my head as I throw myself back into the car. I would _love_ to sit back here and fume over this, inventing nastier comebacks the more pissed off and worked up I get, but tonight isn't about revenge on Emmett's witch of a girlfriend. It's about having a nice evening with the girl I've recently concluded I'm in love with.

Laying my head back on the seat, I take deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heartbeat.

Fuck. Not working.

Rosalie calling Bella a skank is running on a loop in my head, and inquiring minds really wanna know: how long does it take to strangle a bimbo with a necktie?

 _If I have to pop that second Xanax, Bella's going to be watching me sleep, not sleeping with me._

Okay, focus.

 _I wonder what Bella will look like tonight?_

I know her dress is blue—God, all that creamy white skin of hers against dark blue silk. I can't wait to hold her in my arms. I hope she wears her hair down. Girls always wear it up for these kinds of things, but I like to be able to run my fingers through it when we dance, and when I'm kissing her.

I start to get hard as my mind takes me on a tour of Bella's soft lips and what it feels like to ravish them, but my heart is slowing down, and the anger pulsing through me is dissipating.

Fuck Rosalie, and fuck Lauren. They're just not important. What's important is the beautiful girl who will be on my arm tonight for everyone to see. What's important is that I'm going to tell her I love her.

 _What's important is that we get to thrust again and again into that tight, sweet—_

Dick-voice, you have _no idea_ what's important, and I don't wanna hear from you again until we're back at the house. You need to shut the fuck up and let me enjoy this. You'll know when it's your turn.

I glare down threateningly at the semi in my lap, but he's indifferent to my orders. Whatever. I have more important things to worry about—like Bella's dad standing on the front porch waiting for me. _That_ makes my dick deflate instantly. Thanks, Charlie. Now could you go back in the house so my heart doesn't jump out of my chest?

So much for calming myself down.

Suddenly, the standoff with Rosalie looks like a fucking picnic compared with the chief of police glaring at me from ten yards away. My heart rate skyrockets and breathing becomes my main focus. Who knew his ability to strike fear in my heart had this kind of range?

So many secrets. And tonight? Tonight, I'm hoping to play Texas Hold'em with his daughter's V-card. If I still can, that is. My dick feels like it's turned into a raisin. Who'd want to hit that?

"Edward?"

Emmett's voice registers, but my eyes are glued to Charlie's until something draws his attention, and he looks away. I exhale in a whoosh and clutch at my chest. Shit. I may have just peed a little.

"Edward. I'll walk up with you, okay?"

Relief floods through me until—

"Are you fucking kidding me? He can't go get his own date?"

Despite feeling like I'm about to pass out, rage and stubbornness flare in my chest and force the words out of my mouth.

"I'm fine, Emmett. I'll be back in a few."

"But—"

My glare cuts him off mid-plea, but his eyes still try to persuade me.

But right now, I think I'd rather risk a seizure on Bella's lawn than show any further weakness in front of the cow in the front seat.

My anger thrusts me out of the car, but once there, I'm staring at Charlie and trying not to let him see that my hands are shaking and my knees are wobbling enough to almost make me stagger. What little air I can get is choppy and ragged, and if I don't get more soon, I may just take a dive on the chief's sidewalk. Sheer will keeps me going until I get to the foot of the stairs, but I know I can't go any farther.

Charlie takes a step toward me, and my heart falters in my chest.

I'm gonna pass out, the chief's gonna think I'm drunk, and I'm gonna wake up behind bars with Willie the town wino for company. How did this night go to hell so fucking fast?

As I'm about to let the darkness take me, the front door whips open and everything stops—my fall, my breathing, my heart—everything, as I gaze at the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Bella is … stunning. Gorgeous. Transcendent.

Tiny little sleeves barely cover her shoulders, and her perfect breasts poke out against a shiny top covered in blue roses. A bow of the same material draws in her slim waist, and a skirt of silky see-through stuff flows down to just below her knees. I watch it flutter as she hurries down the steps and throws her arms around me.

"Edward!"

I release a shaky breath into her shoulder, and I can't help but inhale the sweet fragrance of her shampoo as my nose buries itself in her hair.

And suddenly, I can breathe again. The two deep breaths I take restore function to my brain and strength to my knees, and my lips move to Bella's of their own accord.

I kiss her, and it's as if everything fixes itself at once, and none of it matters. Not secrets, not Charlie, not Rosalie, not anything but the girl who means everything. _Is_ everything.

Bella pulls back before I have the sense to, and her brow furrows as she gazes up at me.

"Are you all right?"

And my mind, heart, dick, anxiety, and every other part of me that's ever registered an opinion, are silent.

Because, now that she's here, I am.

* * *

A/N: I swear, that boy has got to get over his fear of Charlie before he has a heart attack! But we're off to the dance! I hope to maintain a normal posting schedule again—we'll see how it goes. Chapter 28 will post on December 6. Happy Thanksgiving!


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

" **Love is the answer, but while you are waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions."  
― Woody Allen**

 **Bella**

 _Holy shit, he's white as a sheet!_

I bound down the stairs past my dad and wrap my arms around Edward, who looks like he would have been on the ground by now if I weren't holding him up. His first breath hitches, but then I can actually feel him relax as he takes a second, deeper breath. His lips find their way to mine, and I kiss him soundly, trying to pass him whatever fortitude I have … until I can feel my dad's eyes on the back of my head.

I pull away, but don't turn around.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Edward huffs out. The color is returning to his cheeks, but he's still a bit out of breath—something major just happened, but he seems to be recovering.

"Let's go in for a minute," I say, threading my arm through his and tugging him up the stairs.

Charlie follows us, but he hasn't said anything since I made it to the porch. Did he talk to Edward before I got there?

Once we're inside, Edward disentangles from my arm, squares his shoulders, and turns around to face my dad.

"Sir," he says, nodding his head.

"Edward," Charlie acknowledges, returning his nod.

And we all stand there looking at each other, the silence growing more awkward with every second that passes. Edward suddenly finds his dress shoes fascinating, so I seize the opportunity to glare at my dad and jerk my head toward the kitchen.

"I'll … yeah," Charlie mutters as he stalks off, and Edward's shoulders seem to drop an inch for every step Charlie takes away from him.

And now he's staring at me. His eyes start with my hair and slowly scan downward, caressing every inch of my skin, and making it tingle as he seems to memorize every detail.

"Wow. You look … amazing," he mutters, and I know he's being sincere because no guy can fake that look of awe they get when they see a pretty girl—it's like a testosterone-driven pause button.

My cheeks blaze, but it's because he's made me feel beautiful, not embarrassed. I chuckle as a grin nearly splits my face.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I tell him, my gaze lingering on his broad shoulders and the crisp knot of his royal blue tie.

"Thanks," he answers, smoothing his hands down over his jacket, but one pauses over his pocket.

"Oh, I … have something for you," he mumbles, withdrawing a black velvet box.

My heart stops, like every girl's does, but it's too big to be a ring box, and common sense reminds me we're nowhere near ready for that anyway.

He sets the box in my hands, and the next thing I know, his hands are covering mine, and he's opening it with a chuckle. _Fuck, was I just staring at the box? I must have been._

"Oh!"

It's a sapphire—a perfect oval suspended on a silver chain. It's gorgeous.

"I … it's small, I know. But that's because it's real," Edward says in a rush, and I realize I'm staring again, which is making him nervous and babbly.

"It's perfect," I murmur, and he lets out a breath as a glorious smile spreads across his face.

"You like it?"

"I love it!" I exclaim, nearly dropping the box in my haste to get my arms around him, to transfer even a fraction of the bonfire that's exploded in my chest to him. He grunts as I squeeze him tight, but it lingers into a moan as my lips find his neck and visit all his favorite spots. The fire in my chest shoots downward as my lips finally reach his, and I thrust my tongue into his eager mouth.

 _Has it really only been three days?_

His arm snakes around my waist, and a hard flutter rolls through my stomach as his erection brushes my thigh. I wanna reach down and stroke him, hear those needy groans of his as I work him up, feel the urgency build in him as he tries to hold back— _oh, God, I—_

We jump apart as a horn sounds outside, and his ears turn red as he grins at me.

"Um … we better go. Here, let me put that on for you," he says as he rescues the box from my hand.

 _Oh, right. It was jewelry that made me jump him—as if I really needed an excuse._

I turn around and lift my hair, but it's his hands and not the chain that caress my shoulders. A single finger trails tingly heat down my collarbone.

"We'll get back to this later," he whispers in my ear, and goosebumps shoot down my legs.

The chain follows his hands, cooling the spots he's just set ablaze. He fumbles with the clasp, but he gets it before I can offer my help, his fingers flowing over my shoulders as if they're reluctant to leave my skin.

I turn around, and the light in his eyes brightens and seems to dance.

"Beautiful."

"Isn't she?"

Charlie's words reverberate like a sonic boom as his hand claps down on Edward's shoulder, and he gives it a little shake. Edward freezes, his green eyes going wide like a terrified kitten.

"You two should be going. Edward, take care of my daughter tonight. I just couldn't _bear_ it if anything happened to her."

Edward seems to choke on thin air as all the color leaves his face, and Charlie's smirk widens in direct proportion to Edward's paleness. _Goddammit, Dad! He's got enough to deal with without you scaring the piss out of him!_

"Let's go, Edward," I say, grabbing his arm as I glare at my dad. "I'll be home around lunchtime tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure, sure," Charlie says, but he's still eying Edward and deriving some sort of sick pleasure from his terror. _Do all dads pull this shit?_

I'm in such a hurry to get Edward out the door that I forget my sleepover bag for Alice's, so I leave Edward leaning against the banister and duck back in the house.

Charlie is standing near the living room window still wearing his smirk, and I detour to punch his shoulder before grabbing my bag.

"What?" he asks, spreading his hands in question, and I just shake my head at him. If he only knew everything else Edward has to put up with, I know he wouldn't do this stupid overprotective father shit. Argh.

But all thoughts of my father vanish from my head as I step out onto the porch. Edward stands there, back ramrod straight in his black suit, his hands gripping the banister just as I left him. He looks … dashing. All smooth lines and sharp angles—he looks like a freaking sports car, and I don't even like fancy cars. Is this how guys feel when they look at a Porsche? If girls could have boners, I'd be packing quite a bit of heat about now.

His breathing is still rapid, but when he turns toward me, it seems to slow.

"Are you ready?" he asks, pulling the bag from my hand.

"Yeah, let's go," I answer, still not quite believing I get to be on his arm tonight.

I start down the steps in front of him, and as I reach the bottom, something warm and silky drops onto both my shoulders. _Oh, my God, he just put his suit coat on me, and it's still warm from … from … from_ him.

A shiver that has nothing to do with cold rolls through me, and I must look surprised or something because his hand lands on my back to shepherd me toward the car.

"You looked cold," he explains, and I'm anything but as I gaze into his impossibly green eyes. _Oh, yeah, tonight is gonna be epic._

He stows my bag in the trunk, and we crawl into the back seat together, and even Rosalie's glare can't douse the bright flame of happiness that seems to burn within me.

And then it gets better.

As Emmett heads for the school, Edward puts an arm around me and pulls me close, my head resting against his chest. A shudder rolls through me as he whispers in my ear.

"I have something to ask you before we get to the dance. I … I wanted to do it in private." He casts a glance to the front seat, but Emmett has the radio on, and he and Rosalie both seem lost in their own thoughts.

"Well, mostly," he says, smirking.

Then the arm around me tightens, and I can feel his heart speed up under my cheek.

"Uh … I know you're supposed to go to Alice's, but … um … would you spend the night? With me?"

I lift my chin to meet his eyes, and from the way he jerks back, I'm sure my eyes are bugging out of my head.

"How—"

"My mom left already, and Dad has an overnight shift. Rosalie's spending the night too, I'm pretty sure."

 _Holy fuck._

"Like … as in … in your bed? With you?" I stammer, still trying to wrap my mind around what he's actually asking.

"Well, I wouldn't invite you over to sleep in the guest bed, now, would I? And … I was kinda hoping we might … do more than sleep, ya know?"

And that's when I stop breathing.

"We don't have to go all the way, if you don't want to," he blurts out in a rush. "I mean, I—I'd love to, but … we could just touch each other and cuddle and … please?"

He's grinning at me. Chin cocked down to meet my eyes, his own eyes alight with that feeling we haven't yet put into words, his arm gripping me firmly and drowning me in his warmth. Oh, yeah, and the dashing sports car suit thing.

 _My God, this boy._

I melt. Seriously. Everything in my chest just congeals into a glob of gooey, Edward-loving, pulsating heat, and I whisper "yes" and crash my lips into his before my brain even has the chance to engage.

He pulls me even closer and ravages me, as if all of his anxiety from earlier has morphed into lust. _Holy fucking shit._

Our lips are jostled apart as the car comes to a halt, and exhilarated green eyes meet mine as we both pant for breath.

"We'll continue this later," he says with a smirk. I can actually feel the happiness radiating off him—it feels like sunshine on my face.

I keep his jacket until we get inside the gym, where I reluctantly shrug it off my shoulders and hand it to him.

"Thanks."

"Sure," he says, slipping it back on so we can check in and get our picture taken. As soon as he's done flashing our tickets, he pockets them and extends his elbow, inviting me to wrap my arm around his.

 _Holy fuck, I'm on his arm just like I always wanted to be. Everyone can see we're a couple._

The moment is just … surreal, and I know I'm grinning like an idiot, as if I'm five and showing off my new toy to anyone who will listen. But it's _so_ much more than that, and none of these dumbasses know—that's just between him and me.

The snap of the flash finally wakes me up— _oh, God, what kind of crazy deer in the headlights look was on my face for that picture?_ I know I was spaced out, and it's gonna be like, "Look, it's Edward and Bella, the Powerpuff girl!"

I have no time to dwell on it as The Gothlet nearly bowls me over the second we step away from the photo screen.

"Bella! _There_ you are!"

She looks … fairly normal, by Gothlet standards. Her dress is blood red, but it's overlaid with black lace, which tones the color down quite a bit.

 _Wait, The Gothlet isn't taller than me—holy fuck!_ Okay, the five inch spiked platform stilettos that shift from black at the toe to red at the heel just might throw her over the top into freaky Gothville. _Is she planning to dance in those?_

Jasper slides in behind her, and I give him the once over too because this is what I was really waiting for—to judge just how whipped Jasper is by what The Gothlet managed to get him to wear. Black suit, black shirt, red tie … then he pulls a top hat from behind his back and flips it onto his head with a flourish, running his fingers along the brim as he secures it in place.

"Nice hat!" Edward exclaims, and I shoot him the side-eye, but Alice grins in triumph.

"I know, right? Isn't it awesome?"

She jumps in place as if she's wearing sneakers, and my eyes bug out of my head. _How the fuck does she do that in those death shoes?_

"Come on, Bella; let's go dance!" she yells, attempting to haul me away from Edward.

"Go on. I'll hang with Jazz," Edward says, smirking at me.

 _Is that the "I'm going to go get drunk now" smirk?_

I narrow my eyes at him, and it's as if he's reading my mind. He pulls me close, breaking Alice's grip easily, and I shiver as his warm breath, and even warmer lips, brush against my ear.

"No drinking, I promise. I'm all yours tonight, no … distractions."

He kisses my hair, and a flutter shoots from my chest to my toes and back as Alice drags me to the dance floor. I know from the smirk he's still wearing that I'm giving him the lovesick teenager hearty eyes, but I don't give a fuck—he's gorgeous, and tonight, he's all mine.

 _He could be_ all _yours_.

The thought that I've been forcing back materializes in my head as I move to the beat, and the warmth that comes with it is overwhelming. I've been ignoring the implication of Edward's invitation to "sleep over", but now it hits me full force: am I going to sleep with him?

 _He wants it. You know he wants it._

Sweet Jesus, I want it too. I close my eyes, and I can almost feel the tip of him enter me, hear him moan in pleasure in a way I've never heard before—yeah, I want it pretty bad.

But it's the final step—he already has my heart, even if I haven't said it in so many words. This would be giving him all of me, including my virginity. On some level, I still find this unreal. Why the hell does he want to be with me? I can't see that there's anything I have that Lauren doesn't—

 _There's one thing._ That little voice in my head is such a pain in the ass. And now I'm thinking about that one thing: I know his secret. Why the fuck do I keep coming back to that?

 _Because him wanting to be with you over all these other girls just makes no sense._

I shake my head to clear it—my own subconscious is doing a number on me and killing my buzz over being here with Edward. Well, fuck that. We _are_ here, what I see in his eyes _is_ real, and that's just the way it is.

I embrace the warmth that spreads through me with those thoughts and sweep my poisonous doubts and insecurities into a dark corner of my mind. I'm just going to enjoy tonight and see where it leads me.

 _Holy shit, when did Angela get here?_ I'm amazed I didn't bump into her; she's dancing so close to me, and I had no idea she was there.

The music flows from one fast song into the next, but The Gothlet and I are out of breath.

"Wanna go get a drink?" I ask, and she nods, still bouncing on those vampire-hued death traps. _I don't envy her the pain she's gonna feel later on tonight._ There has to be some kind of price for putting your feet through that.

Ang follows us over to the table where cups of punch are set out under the watchful eye of a chaperone, of course, and we all grab one and try to slow our breathing.

"That was fun!" The Gothlet exclaims, and for the first time ever, I'd have to say she seems giddy.

 _Angels of death can be giddy? Who fucking knew?_

I nod in agreement because whatever keeps her Morrissey-worshiping ass happy has to be a good thing for everyone, right? But it also reminds me—I need to tell her I won't be sleeping over tonight.

 _Oh, God, here we go …_

"Alice? I … um … I can't sleep over after the dance tonight," I say, and although I try to maintain eye contact, suddenly, I'm looking at those ridiculous shoes of hers.

"Why not?"

 _Well, it was worth a shot anyway._

"I'm … I'm sleeping at Edward's," I blurt out as fast as I can, closing my eyes as if it'll shield me from her reaction.

"Whoa," Ang exclaims, and I peek one eye open to see that she's staring at me with her mouth open.

The Gothlet's gaze is more calculating.

"Sleeping _at_ Edward's, or sleeping _with_ Edward?" she asks, quirking a brow at me.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully because my head is too muddled to come up with anything else.

"Will his parents be there?" Ang asks, and I shake my head slowly.

"Sleeping _with_ Edward, then, for sure," The Gothlet concludes, and it irritates me more than a little.

"I honestly haven't decided yet, and I don't know if he has either."

"Bella, _he_ decided in September."

"He did _not_! Come on, Alice; he's not like that."

" _All_ boys are like that," she declares, shaking her head.

"Even Jasper?"

That makes her pause, but only for a second.

"Probably."

I shake my head in frustration.

"He's never pushed me—"

"He's never had you in his bed before."

"So? We've had plenty of opportunities—"

"I just … I don't want to see you get hurt," The Gothlet interrupts me again, but I don't get angry because her words and tone tell me she doesn't want to argue. "I hope Edward really is who you think he is."

"He is," I tell her, her lack of confidence only serving to boost my own conviction.

Ang glances between the two of us, seemingly not sure whose side to take, or if there's even a side to be taken.

"I'll be careful. I promise," I tell The Gothlet, and I nearly fall over from shock when she gives me a quick hug.

"Good," she says, staring into my eyes for a moment, and then she's off and heading for the guys on the other side of the gym.

Ang and I are left to stare at each other.

"Have you ever seen her touch anyone, other than boys, with anything other than that knife of hers?"

"Nope," Ang replies, shaking her head in disbelief.

 _Didn't think so._

I think I just advanced to Gothlet friendship, level two, or something.

We take off after her, and by the time we reach the guys, a slow song is just starting up. The Gothlet lifts Jasper's arm so she can pirouette underneath it as she pulls him out onto the floor, and I shake my head, wishing I had even half that much grace and poise.

Ang's approach to Ben is shy, even though they've been dating the longest. She just takes his hand and nods her head in the direction of the floor, and they both blush as he leads her away.

And that leaves me with nothing to do but stare at Edward. I raise my eyes to him, and his smile is brilliant, and before I can process what's happened, he's raising my hand to his lips to feather a soft kiss there.

"May I have this dance?" he asks, inclining his head to me, and excitement ricochets everywhere and flies out of my mouth as a squeal.

 _Smooth, Bella._

But I can't help it. He's got the charm turned up to panty-incineration level, and I'm eating it up like Haagen-Dazs Espresso Chocolate Cookie Crumble when I'm on my period.

He pulls me onto the floor with a hand on my lower back to guide me, and I wonder whether my feet are actually touching the ground because I feel like I'm floating. I hover in place as we face each other, and before I can wrap my arms around his neck, he places one of my hands at his waist and twines his fingers with the other, pulling it up to his chest and holding it over his heart. His other arm wraps around me and pulls me impossibly close—it's the most intimate position I've ever been in with him—with anyone—and as I gaze into his eyes, my heart threatens to explode in my chest.

I have to bite my lip to keep the _I love you_ from escaping, and the only reason I do is because after I tell him, I want to show him, and I can't do that here.

His warm breath caresses my shoulder as he turns his head, and goose bumps erupt down that side of my body. I can feel my heartbeat between my legs, but since I can't very well hump him in the middle of the dance floor, I reach up and turn his cheek so his lips brush mine.

That simple kiss seems to electrify me, and I plunge my tongue into his mouth, wanting to get as close to him as possible. His groan is low and needy, and my stomach twinges hard, everything within me warming and tingling. My arm creeps up his back, and it's just in time, too, because when I brush my thigh against his straining erection, he seems to go weak in the knees.

"Oh, God," he mumbles against my mouth, shifting his hips into me for friction. I can feel his want in the flex of his fingers on my back, hear it in the guttural moans vibrating through his chest with every press and rub of his body against mine.

I lose myself in the rhythm of our vertical lap dance—sliding my hand down to cup his ass while I suck on his tongue, and heat flares between my legs.

Edward breaks away with a gasp, clutching me tightly so we're no longer moving.

"I … we … if we don't stop, I'm gonna lose it right here on the dance floor."

He's panting and squeezing his eyes shut, and a thrill runs through me as I realize he was even closer than he's letting on—I actually almost made him jizz up his dress slacks. _Damn._

I giggle as I hold him tight, and I can feel him chuckle too.

"I can't wait for tonight," he whispers in my ear, and I know, in this instant, that I'm right where I'm meant to be, and everything is absolutely perfect.

I breathe a sigh of contentment as I rest my chin on his shoulder, and my eyes open lazily … to meet the darkest glare I've ever seen in my life. Resting Bitch Face is behind Edward, and her bitch face is _far_ from resting. She would be dancing with Tyler, if she were moving at all, but she's rooted to the spot, staring daggers at me—rage all but dripping from her.

She stalks off, and Tyler is left in her wake. I lower my eyes quickly so he doesn't catch on.

 _Holy shit! That was some serious hate in her eyes!_

Can't she see Edward wants nothing to do with her?

A shiver runs through me.

I know she can't hurt me, but if looks could kill, I'd be bleeding out right now, and it's uncomfortable knowing someone feels that way about you … even if she _is_ a bitch.

"Bella?"

Edward looks down at me and then over his shoulder, and I realize I'm staring at the spot where Bitch Face was breathing fire. _Is that a singed spot on the gym floor?_

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking about … later," I tell him, going up on my tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips. "I haven't given you _your_ Christmas present yet."

He smirks at me, and his blush is adorable.

"I can hardly wait."

* * *

A/N: Can you feel it? Is it impending loss of virginity or … another kind of loss? Answers are coming—Chapter 29 will post on December 20.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

" **I don't know the question, but sex is definitely the answer."  
― Woody Allen**

 **Edward**

We talk. We dance. Bella looks fucking gorgeous and my dick is a steel rod the entire time. If it weren't for black slacks and a very dark room, everyone would be able to see that I'm toting around a fucking utility pole—complete with the occasional shower of sparks when Bella brushes a little too close.

I almost lost it that first time we danced. I have absolutely no idea how I kept from spunking all over my dress clothes—and I would have too because my balls feel like I'm carrying a third world nation. I'm not in pain, though. Maybe Santa gives out red balls instead of blue—a teenage boy's Christmas miracle.

So, for the rest of the night, I play keep away from Bella's waist—pulling my hips back every time she tries to grind against me. And I know she understands why, the little vixen. Her teasing has me so aroused I wanna go jack it in the bathroom just for some relief, but I'm going to wait because, tonight, I belong to her.

The fucking clock seems to tick backward, but finally, they're playing the last song, and she's in my arms again, her cheek resting on my shoulder.

"I had such a good time tonight," she murmurs, and heat flairs in my chest as I tighten my arms around her.

"I did too," I tell her, and I really mean it. No drinking, no drama, just a beautiful girl so close and warm, her adoring eyes finding me no matter where I was in the room.

"But … we're not finished yet, are we?" My voice is shaky as my heart thumps in my chest, but her blush calms me even before her words.

"No. No, I don't think we are."

Her smile is real, and some of my fear dissipates. She _does_ want to be with me, and we'll figure this out together. Power pole in my pants twitches his agreement—I hope Bella can't see that I'm currently sporting a sparkler.

When the song ends, we say goodnight to our little group and go in search of Em and Rose, and that's when shit gets real.

They're in a dark corner of the room, but I can hear their voices from a few yards away now that the music has stopped. And so can everyone on this side of the gym.

"Fuck you, Emmett! All you care about is whether his ass is happy or not, and it's only gotten worse since he has a girlfriend."

"Rose, you're being ridiculous. All I asked is that you not be a bitch to him all the time. He's done nothing to you."

"You're right! But _we_ don't get to do anything because you're always his goddamn babysitter! I thought we were gonna be alone tonight!"

"We _are_ gonna be alone! Ed and Bella being in the house won't interfere with … anything. Just calm the fuck down; you'll still get yours."

"Yeah? Well, maybe you _won't_!"

Rose storms away from him, and I want the fucking ground to swallow me up. That bitch is way out of line, and in truth, I _haven't_ interfered with anything, but the look on Emmett's face is so sad and frustrated, it makes my heart hurt. I'm _so_ fucking disgusted that my problems have to spill over into his life—it's bad enough they're in mine.

Bella squeezes my hand, and my eyes are drawn to hers, but my stomach rolls from the pity I can't help but see there. She's trying to make me feel better, but the attention is making me want to explode.

Em sees me, and his face falls a little more—he knows I heard. Could this be any more of a goddamn clusterfuck?

He walks over and puts a hand on my shoulder. I want to shake him off, but it's not him I'm angry at, so I stand there, tolerating his … whatever, every muscle in my body tense and vibrating.

"Meet me at the car. I'll … I'll go find Rose."

He drops his keys in my hand, and I think I nod, but I'm so angry I'm afraid to move, afraid I'll blow up at anything, even if it's nothing.

I probably look like an idiot, standing here and just trying to fucking breathe, but Bella lets me until the room is almost empty.

"Edward? Can we go to the car?" she asks softly, and her voice soothes me. I huff out a breath and squeeze her hand, and she rests her other one on my forearm.

"Um … can I have your jacket again? It's pretty cold out."

I smile without thinking about it, but everything feels stiff as I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. How long was I standing like that?

She grabs my hand again, and I gain some composure as we walk through the parking lot.

 _It's not your fault_ , echoes in my head using Bella's voice. I'm sure she'd tell me that right now herself, if she wasn't afraid I'd bite her head off.

I heave a sigh as we get to the car—Emmett is nowhere in sight. After I unlock the doors, I get behind the wheel, and Bella's wide eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

"I'm just turning it on to warm up," I tell her, trying to ignore her relief. Taking off with Emmett's car would be a dumbfuck thing to do for many reasons, not the least of which that Emmett would likely separate my head from my shoulders. Nah, there's been enough bullshit tonight, and I'm just fucking tired.

I get into the backseat with Bella, and she curls into me—burrowing under my arm until I throw it around her, her closeness melting my tension just like the heat is thawing my hands.

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Bella says, two icy fingers quickly covering my lips. "I know you don't wanna talk about it, but Rosalie is just being a colossal bitch, and I'd like to punch her fucking lights out right now."

I try to hide my smirk but fail miserably. Bella's so fucking cute when she's all riled up; the urge to kiss the shit out of her is strong, but I resist, knowing she'll get pouty on me.

Instead, I pucker my lips into a kiss against her fingers, and her eyes snap to mine. She pulls her fingers back, leaving the tip of one on my lip, and I gently pull it inside, rolling my tongue under it as my dick hardens and my thigh muscles clench.

I wanna fuck her so bad, it's damn near killing me, and my body takes over, pulling her close and crashing my lips into hers. We make out like it's gonna be the last thing we ever do, and just as Bella grabs my tie to rip it off, the car door opens and we spring apart with an audible pop.

Rose and Emmett get in without speaking, and the temperature in the car drops a good twenty degrees. Brrr … I'd hate to be in Emmett's bed tonight.

Bella gives me a quirky smile, and I shrug my shoulders, pulling her back against me. We make rude gestures at Rosalie behind her seat and try not to laugh out loud all the way home, and I feel so much better. It sucks that Em is going to have a lousy night, but maybe Ice Princess will thaw out for him. And if not, I know he's gotten enough of her pussy in the last month to make up for one lost night, even if it was gonna be alone and uninterrupted. It's her loss, really. Guys can take care of jizzness whenever they want.

No one says a word as we exit the car and go into the house, but as soon as we're through the front door, Rose takes off for Emmett's room.

"Fuck," he mutters, heaving a sigh.

"I'm—"

"Don't you dare. She's being a twatwaffle, and that's all on her. Spoiled fucking—"

He stops short, his eyes flicking to Bella.

"Don't stop on my account," she says, and I can't hold back my snort.

Even Em cracks a grin. "Anyway, you two will be good until about 7 AM; Dad will be home by eight."

"That's fine. My Dad has the early shift so he'll be gone by six."

For the first time in my life, I'm actually happy about Bella's father's occupation. _Didn't see that one coming._

"Thanks, Em. I hope you … have a good night."

"Yeah, me too," he says, rolling his eyes as he heads for the stairs.

Which leaves Bella and I staring at each other in the front hall.

"Should we …"

"Yeah," Bella squeaks out, following after Emmett.

My heart starts to thunder in my chest. Bella's been in my room before but never with the intent that we'd … It's an entirely different feeling, and it's both exhilarating and terrifying.

I round the corner to my room, and she's standing beside the bed, fidgeting. She's as nervous as I am, and that's good and bad—good because I feel like less of a pussy, but bad because it's no help in calming _me_ down.

 _Okay, Edward, time to man up._

Crossing the room on unsteady feet, I take her hands and bring them up to my chest.

"Hey."

"Hey," she murmurs, but the second her eyes meet mine, my fear starts to fade away.

"Nervous?"

"N-no."

"Liar."

She smirks and cuts her eyes away as her cheeks flush, and my own nerves settle a bit more.

I grasp her chin and bring her eyes back to mine. "It's just us, and we won't do anything you don't want to. I just want to be with you, okay?"

Her eyes light up, and suddenly, she's kissing the shit out of me. I have no idea why, but at this moment, I couldn't give a fuck. My hands find their way to her waist as heat flairs in my groin, and I feel like I have no control as my fingers squeeze her ass and push my throbbing dick against her … mother _fucker_.

Edward gasps against me, and I don't know if it's surprise or relief or lust, but I don't care because now his arms are pulling me close, and his waist is sliding between my legs, and the feeling shooting through me is like a beacon into space.

His lips are warm and soft as we move against one another, and the second I feel his tongue touch my teeth, I thrust mine into his mouth, moaning as my stomach does a somersault.

"Ohhh," he groans needily, his fingers sliding into my hair as he pulls me closer still.

"You're so … _God_ , Bella, I just want to …"

His lips move hungrily to my throat, and I thrust my head back, allowing him better access as he kisses every inch of exposed skin. I'm panting, my hands sliding up his sides as his jacket falls from my shoulders.

 _Less clothing—yes! That's what we need!_

Suddenly, I'm itching to touch him—to run my fingers over his quivering abs, to suck a nipple into my mouth because, although he does it to me all the time, I've never been brave enough to see if he likes it. But right now, I want to know … desperately.

I reach blindly for his tie because that shit's hard to do when you're panting and he's ravaging and … _there_ , it is!

His lips abruptly leave me and my head snaps down, at a loss, but a wave of hot lava rolls through my belly when I meet his dark, hungry eyes, and I know in that moment—

I'm going to give him everything.

He grasps his tie, loosening it as he rips it over his head, and my fingers are already at his buttons, revealing inch after inch of warm, heaving chest.

 _God almighty, he's so fucking gorgeous!_

His shirt goes down and then off, and my hands span his pecs, teasing his nipples. His head rolls back with a deep inhale that ends in a groan, and I shiver, goose bumps breaking out on my skin. He hisses when my tongue makes contact with the hard little nub, and then I begin to suck, just like he does to me.

"Ohhh, Jesus, _fuck_ , Bella! What are you—ahhh …"

His dick twitches so hard I can feel it against my leg, and he melts against me, his hands sliding up my back to hold my mouth against his chest.

"Yes, _fuck_!" he exclaims as I suck even harder, and he presses his cock against my thigh.

His hands squeeze my back, but suddenly, they begin to scrabble frantically.

"I … I … I need this off. How do I—can I? Oh, God, _please_ ," Edward babbles.

If he's ever been this worked up before, I've never seen it, and that's saying something. My stomach twinges, and I squeeze my eyes shut as heat rolls through me. I release his nipple with a pop, and his gasp mirrors it exactly.

As I turn, our eyes lock—his lust-filled, mine playful—and my smile widens as his fingers fumble and shake as they lower my zipper.

He's quicker with my strapless bra, and both fall as his hands cup my breasts, and his cock presses against me. I shiver violently as warm breath and warmer lips caress my shoulder.

"Fuck, Bella, you're …"

His words are just a mumble as his fingers squeeze and tweak, and my head falls back on his shoulder as I rub my ass against his cock.

His hands and lips are everywhere, and I lose myself to it so deeply. The next thing I know, I'm on my back, and he's naked and hovering over me, about to take my nipple into his mouth.

"Mmmm," I hum and writhe as he laves at my skin, groaning when he sucks hard.

"Edward …"

I wanna see her naked. She's seen my dick and every other part of me, but she's always kept her panties on or the lights off—eating a girl out in the dark is like some sort of culinary cave expedition.

But tonight, when I closed the door, I flipped on my little desk light, hoping I'd get the chance to see all of her. And, by God, _right now_ is my chance.

I slide my hand down her side until I reach her silky white panties, but she tenses when I grip the material.

It sucks to let go of the nipple I'm currently trying to swallow, but she needs to be okay with this. If she can't even let me look at her, we have no business fucking. I don't want her to regret this; I need to know she's doing it for _her_ and not just for me.

I raise my eyes to her, and I'm disappointed to see a bit of panic there.

"Bella, I want to see you— _all_ of you. You've seen me—"

She snorts, and I know what she's thinking.

"Okay, so maybe I wave my dick around like it's the greatest thing there's ever been—"

Her laughter chases everything out of my head, and the warmth I feel has nothing to do with my fantastic dick—it's all coming from my heart, and I know it.

"Yes, you're quite proud of your … endowment," she says, unable to hide her smile. "But you're right, and I _want_ you to see me."

Her own hand helps me slide her panties down, and I stare at her from top to bottom—soft, flowing hair splayed out on my pillow; deep, brown eyes that see right to my soul; amazing, perky, fucking awesome tits just the size of my hands; and now, the pussy of perfection—cute little dark curls hiding what's bound to be my dick's new favorite place.

"Fucking gorgeous," I murmur, unable to take my eyes off her.

"Wow," she whispers.

 _Um … hello?_ my dick calls out, waving frantically. _Can we quit the romance novel shit and move on to the porn flick?_

I wanna eat her out, but I want her lips too, and my dick wants to get as close to that pussy as possible. I just want everything, and I'm … stuck, so Bella makes the decision for me, pulling me up to smash her lips to mine.

Every inch of our bodies makes contact with no clothes in between, and it feels as if I've been struck by lightning. I writhe against her, rubbing my dick on her thigh while my hand explores those soft curls, and my tongue massages hers, reaching as deeply as I can.

 _Fuck, she's wet already._ My fingers spread her, and I insert one, and my dick weeps tears of fucking joy against her leg as all that wetness spreads and engulfs me.

 _Holy mother of fuck, that's what it's going to feel like around my … when I …_

Edward thrusts a single finger in a few times, but I'm ready for more, and I let him know by bucking against his hand.

A second finger follows, and although we've done this many times before, it feels different … better. I try to keep kissing him, but my lips are getting sloppy as I focus on the heat that spreads outward from every place he touches, every thrust of his fingers stoking the flames a little more.

He pulls back and inserts a third finger, which he's never done before, and I throw my head back, the coil inside me tightening.

"Oh, Edward," I moan, feeling myself stretch, and his fingers just about reach that spot—the one that sets off the fireworks.

"You're so fucking—ohhh!" The rest of whatever he was going to say is lost in the moan that takes over as he grinds his dick against me, and the sound of his pleasure lifts me a little higher, just a little closer.

"Edward, please!" It comes out as a breathy plea, and his lips return to devour mine as he curls his fingers and hits that spot … over and over and …

"Oh, _fuck_!" His thumb makes a single circle on my clit, and I explode, bucking against him as I quake with wave after wave of unbelievable pleasure.

I lie there feeling spent, and I realize that while my breathing is returning to normal, Edward is still panting like he's just run a marathon.

When I open my eyes, I find him staring, a look of wonder on his face, but then I lower my gaze and see his hand curled over his cock, stroking slowly as pre-cum leaks from the tip.

And this is the moment. There's so much love in his eyes—I don't know if he's breathless from need or from what he's feeling, but time seems to slow down as he reaches out and strokes my cheek.

"Bella, I …"

"Make love to me, Edward."

His sharp exhales are all I can hear.

"Really?"

"I want you," I say, pulling him between my legs, and it feels right, as if it were always meant to happen just this way.

He pulls away but only to reach for his slacks and pull out a string of condoms.

"Big plans for tonight?" I ask, smirking at him, and he gives me that killer grin of his.

"No harm in being prepared," he answers, rolling one on and then settling between my legs again.

I wait, eyes closed, yearning for the feeling of him entering me, and when it doesn't come, I open my eyes to find him hovering over me, holding his weight up by his hands.

"Um … I think you have to help me with this part," he says, and I flush in embarrassment.

"Oh, I didn't know …"

"Well, neither do I, but I don't think—"

"What?"

"What, what?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Well, nobody talks about this part, and since I haven't done it before …"

 _Hold the fucking phone._

"Haven't done what?" _Is he saying he's a_ virgin _?_

"This," he says, getting frustrated. "I don't think my dick is just drawn in there like a magnet—"

"You're a … a virgin?"

"Of course! What the hell are you talking about?" he demands, backing up a bit.

"No … you're not a _virgin_ , virgin," I say stupidly. "I heard you did it with at least six different girls."

"Did you hear it from _them_?" His tone is demanding as he quirks a brow at me.

"Well, no …"

"Bella, I haven't ever been with anyone like this before. I've fooled around, but that's all," he says, caressing my cheek. "All this time, you thought I'd … Why didn't you just ask me?"

"I didn't want to know," I tell him petulantly. "Whoever you've fucked in the past is your business—"

"But I haven't fucked anyone, and I don't want to. I want to _make love_ to _you_ ," he says, and I positively _melt_.

 _Holy shit, he's a virgin!_ I thought I was the only one and … Whatever, there's nothing I could do about it anyway, but now … now this is only mine, and I get to go where _no_ girl has ever gone before—the warmth that spreads through my chest is positively unreal.

Merry Christmas to _me_!

But I'm still embarrassed I thought he was a man-whore.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, I'm sorry. As a guy, I'd never correct those rumors, but I should have told you—"

"I should have asked," I counter, smiling at him. And although I'm still over the moon that I'm his first too, I'm tired of his conversation, so I grab his dick and give it a few pumps.

"Christ," he mutters, lowering himself down until his tip brushes against my clit.

I hiss at the sensation, but then he drops a little lower, and I help guide his cock home with my hand.

I slide in, but oh, so slowly. _Oh, my God, she's_ so _tight, I'm gonna explode before I even get all the way in_. But it feels so fucking good I can barely bring myself to care right now. I push in until I can't go any farther, but my dick is still halfway out. _Isn't it supposed to go all the way in?_

We're both panting, but hers sound almost painful.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Are you?" she asks, and it still sounds as if it's painful for her, but I think she's trying to move beyond it, to feel the fucking amazing shit I'm feeling.

"I'm … _fuck_ , you feel so good. I'm trying not to come," I mutter, and her pussy is gripping me so tightly it takes everything I have not to explode.

"Let's just breathe, okay?" she suggests, her eyes squeezed shut, and I try to do what she says, _just breathe_ , but oh, my God, this is the best fucking thing _ever_.

The urge to plow into her is almost overwhelming, but I know there's more to it than this, and now I remember Emmett telling me long ago that the first time, you have to break through some kind of barrier in the girl's … whatever.

"Bella, I'm gonna move, okay?" I say, trying to keep my shit together as my body demands that I thrust.

Her eyes are shut, but she nods, so I pull out, and push in a little harder. She yelps as I hit resistance again, and I think we both see stars—her from pain and me from trying to hold back.

And I know I just have to get it over with.

I pull out and thrust as hard as I can, and although Bella cries out again, I'm now buried to the hilt inside of her.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "It'll be easier now."

"Okay," she says shakily, and although I'm concerned about her, I know we've made it through the hard part.

I start to move slowly in and out, and she's squeezing me so tightly I can barely think straight.

"All right?" I grit out, and she nods, and thank fucking God because what's building inside me is so big and so strong I can't hold it back anymore.

I start to thrust in earnest, groaning more deeply with each stroke, but the pressure in my groin builds so fast that I only make it five thrusts before I'm struggling to keep going.

"Bella, I'm … oh, God … oh, _fuck_!" I explode without warning, buried as deeply as I can be as I pulse inside of her, pleasure surging through me again and again until I feel like I can't come anymore … like, ever.

I collapse next to her, a panting, quivering mess. My dick is belting out "We are the champions" so loudly that it's hard to think around it—he does a pretty decent Freddie Mercury, I must admit—but as I come down from my high, embarrassment sets in. I came way too fucking fast, and I have no idea if Bella enjoyed that, or … fuck! If she's even all right!

My brain is still in orgasm-induced fragments, so I have no idea what to say to her.

So we both stare at the ceiling for a while.

Finally, she reaches over and threads her fingers into mine.

"That was …"

"… not awesome."

"Huh?"

She's looking at me now, and I scramble to get my brain into some kind of working order.

"I mean, it _was_ awesome, but …"

"I came too fast."

"It hurt."

We blurt our thoughts out at the same time, and I feel like an instant asshole for thinking about my own pleasure and hers and ignoring the fact that I _broke_ something inside of her.

"Are you okay?" I ask, rolling to my side and reaching up to caress her cheek. "I didn't mean to—"

Her laughter cuts me off.

"Yes, you did, and I wanted you to. I'm okay. It hurt at first, but then it started to feel better."

"And then I came like a twelve-year-old jackin' it for the first time."

She laughs again, and I have no idea why that makes me feel better.

"Why don't we try again? When you're ready, that is," she says, and I can't help the smirk on my face. My dick was a pleasure-drunken member of Queen a few minutes ago, but he's stirring and beginning to harden again already, eager for an encore.

"I mean, it has to be … more awesome than that?"

"Emmett always says it is," I tell her, hoping I sound confident as I roll to my side to lean over her.

"Ugh," Bella mutters, grimacing. "No offense, but don't ever mention your brother and sex in the same sentence again."

While I'm thrilled she's not attracted to baboon boy, it's … odd since most girls fall all over him.

"Emmett doesn't do it for you?"

"He _did_ do it for me—didn't I ever tell you?"

" _What?_ " _What in the holy mother of fuck is she talking about?_

Her eyes widen as she gazes up at me—I can only imagine what I look like because I feel like I've been poleaxed in the groin.

"Whoa! Calm down! I didn't mean it like that!" she exclaims, caressing by cheek soothingly. "It was that night you got so drunk at the dance. I had to go find Emmett and he and Rosalie were … ugh! He was moaning, and she was chirping like a freaking chipmunk, and I'm pretty sure I'm scarred for life!"

Her cute little nose wrinkles in distaste, and I fall to my back in hysterics.

"You interrupted … shit! I can hear her chirping in my head in that squeaky voice of hers!" I give up trying to talk and just howl with laughter.

Bella smacks my arm, and my eyes pop open to find her glaring at me.

"You owe me for that one, jackass! It's your fault I had to witness … muskrat love!"

I bust up again, but this time I roll toward her, and I laugh even harder as she tries to wiggle out of my grasp.

Until I realize she's rubbing against my dick.

And my nipples.

And every other part of me, and suddenly, our lips crash together and our hands are everywhere.

My dick is hard as a fucking rock, and my balls already feel full and heavy as I grind against her—I have to stop this or I'm not going to last any longer than I did the last time.

I break contact, but before she can protest, I pull one of her hardened nipples into my mouth. I _love_ to play with these bad boys … err, girls … whatever, I just love them, okay?

I massage with my tongue until everything becomes so freaking soft, and she sighs, both of her hands finding their way to my hair. When I start to suck, four things happen simultaneously, and I fucking love it: her nipple peaks into a perfect little nub; she hisses and arches her back, thrusting her tits farther into my face; her fingers tighten on my skull, scratching and rubbing in time with my pulls on her breast; and, _oh yeah_ , my dick twitches so hard I swear I feel the earth move.

"Oh, _Edward_ …"

Her words are breathy—I can almost feel the pleasure dripping off them, and _fuck_ , I'm the one doing that to her. Heat rolls from my chest down into my groin and I can't help but press my dick against her.

 _Oh, God, that feels_ so _good._

My dick is beside himself—incoherent and pulsing because we're _so fucking close_ to Pussytown, but I don't let my body take over—not this time.

Before, I was scared and so fucking worked up I could hardly think straight enough to put my dick in the right hole, but this time, I want to make love to her, for real.

I release her nipple and look up into her impossibly deep brown eyes, heavy-lidded with the pleasure my lips just gave her.

 _So fucking beautiful._

"Bella, I wanna make love to you."

Her gasp is soft, but _yes_ is written all over her face as she pulls me up even with her, hands on both my cheeks.

"I wanna make love to you, too," she says, and it feels like a volcano erupts in my chest—I love her so damn much, and all I want to do is spend the rest of the night showing her, worshiping her, telling her in every way possible.

My lips find hers, and it's gentle, but there's more behind it now—so much more. My tongue slides against hers, and I feel the pull in my groin, the need building in every part of me to get closer to her, become one with her, make her feel everything that's exploding inside of me—the heat and the love and the—oh _fuck_ , I don't know what it is, but I _have to_ make her feel it too.

She moans into my mouth, and the vibration sends waves of heat through me; the feel of it makes me shiver. I move just a little, and my dick slides against her thigh, smearing pre-cum over the tip— _oh, my fucking God, I don't think I've ever been this turned on before_.

"Bella, _please_ ," I murmur against her lips, need gnawing at my dick and heart and fucking soul—need for whatever of herself she's willing to give me.

With a smirk, she reaches for the condoms this time, and I jerk away when she starts to stroke my dick.

"Shit, if you do that, I'll—"

"I know," she says, palming my balls as I bite my lip, struggling for control. "I just like touching it."

 _Jesus._

 _Fucking._

 _Christ._

 _I'm dead._

How I manage not to jizz all over her is a mystery I'll ponder for many a sleepless night to come … as I masturbate to the mere thought that Bella likes touching my _dick_.

" _Fuuuuck_."

Bella's laughter brings a smirk to my lips, and I fall just a little more in love with her.

"That's funny, huh? Trying to make me jizz with the shit you say?"

I hiss as Bella rolls the condom on me, and her ensuing giggle more than answers my question, but I keep talking to buy some time to get myself under control.

"You are one evil little vixen, you know that? But two can play at that game."

She gasps as I run a finger from one end of her slit to the other, making a lazy circle around her clit. I pull my hand back, and her look of outrage makes me snort out a laugh; the smack I receive for it is equally funny.

But the break bought me the time and distraction I needed—I no longer feel as if my load is gonna 'splode.

When I slip between her legs and position myself over her, all teasing is gone from both our expressions.

Her hand guides me as I stare into her eyes, and I slide in easily, but I can't ignore her wince.

"Bella—"

"I'm fine; it'll feel good in a minute, just like it did last time."

 _Thank fucking God._

She's so warm and tight, but this time, I'm ready for it, and I only need a few seconds to quell the flare of arousal that threatens to undo me.

And I spend those few seconds kissing her, reveling in the fact that we're joined—as close as we'll ever be.

Her hips flex under me, and I start to move without realizing it, thrusting to the rhythm her hips set as they rise from the bed.

She tears her lips from mine to pant into my shoulder, eyes closed, lips slack with pleasure.

"Edward, _yes_."

And I'm fucking high.

I listen to the sounds of our love: skin slapping as we come together, Bella's soft grunts when I push against her deep inside, my moans every time her hot wetness squeezes me so fucking tightly.

I feel her warm breath on my shoulder, the flex of her hips as she welcomes me in, the pulse of my dick as I try to hold back the massive orgasm that feels like it's been building for days and days, even though I know I came less than an hour ago.

Her fingers digging into my back tell me she's feeling passion and not pain, and I lose myself to the feeling, my own hands gripping the sheets as I push in deeper, thrust a little harder.

 _This_ is what making love is, and I know she feels it too.

It's fucking perfection.

I want to stay focused on her, but suddenly, moving inside her feels so good, I can't pay attention to anything else.

"Oh, _God_ , I … uhhh!"

I thrust faster as I squeeze my eyes shut, pressure and pleasure and something almost like pain building so quickly I can barely contain it.

"I want you to come," I blurt out, wanting Bella to feel as fucking amazing as I do, but I'm so drunk on pleasure I have no idea how to make it happen.

But Bella does.

One hand leaves my back, and I feel it slide between us. I jerk my head up when she moans, and the realization that she's touching herself sets off fireworks in my groin.

"Oh, _oh_ …"

Her breathless moan is so sexy, but everything in the world stops as all of her tightens around my dick.

"Oh, my _God_ —"

"Yes!" Bella cries out, and I lose my fucking mind.

She pulses around me, squeezing and pulling, and _oh,_ _my God, I'm going to—_

I explode deep inside her, pleasure roaring through me for the longest, strongest fucking orgasm I've ever had. I pulse and pulse until it feels as if all the jizz there ever was just spewed out of my dick, and my arms feel so heavy, I can't help but collapse onto Bella's chest.

I lay there, panting, with no idea how much time goes by before I can focus on something outside my own body again.

And the first thing I'm aware of is the softness and warmth of Bella, her chest still heaving under mine.

I'm still in space somewhere, floating in this perfect moment. It was amazing! He was so gentle and sensitive—worried that he'd hurt me when I know his body had to be screaming for him to plow into me.

But he didn't.

And, Christ, the way it felt and the sounds he made—the pleasure I know he was feeling. From being with _me_.

It _was_ more than sex. It was love; I'm sure of it.

The feeling wells up and spills over in my chest, sending tingles and shivers to the very tips of my toes and fingers.

I can't hold it back anymore—I've given him all of me—all that I am and all that I have, and the only thing left to do is tell him what his body and mine already know.

"Edward, I … I love you," I whisper, and as I close my eyes I feel the tears escape and roll over my temples.

He pulls in a sharp breath, and I feel his muscles tense, and I know it's not the right time for him—I took him by surprise.

"Bella—"

"No! Don't say anything. I don't want you to say it just because I did, and if you're not gonna say it, I don't wanna know right now. If … if you feel the same way, say it sometime when I'm not expecting it. That way I'll know it's true."

I open my eyes, and he's staring at me, his look a combination of wonder and furrowed eyebrows. I don't know what it means, and I'm too happy to try to sort it out right now; I'd rather just lie here and feel my love for _him_.

"I love you, Edward," I say again, and he kisses me. He tells me with his lips and his tongue and the gentle caress of his hands over my shoulders, and I'm content.

Our kisses become languid then stop altogether, and I find myself staring at his sweet, boyish face as his breathing evens out into sleep.

I surrender to sleep myself, basking in the warm glow that still lingers from what was given and felt and said this night.

Everything is perfect.

* * *

A/N: I hope this was as good for you as it was for me. Merry Christmas! Due to the holidays, the next post will be January 10. Give me a holler if you liked this one, yeah?


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

" **If you tell the truth, it becomes a part of your past. If you lie, it becomes a part of your future."  
— John Spence**

 **Bella**

Warmth is all around me, and I smile before I even open my eyes, the memories of last night running on a loop through my mind. His breath is soft on my shoulder, spooning me from behind with legs pressed against mine and arms wrapped around my stomach—it seems so natural for him that I want to look in his closet to see if there's a teddy bear shoved in there, angry that I've taken its place.

 _I'm so in love with him._

He stirs and mumbles, his arms tightening around me as he snuggles closer, burying his nose in my hair. His sigh triggers one of my own—I'm utterly content in this moment, and I wish it could last forever.

But it's six-thirty and Emmett wanted to take me home around seven, and I want a few minutes with awake Edward since I won't see him again until school on Monday.

I squirm a little in his arms, and he startles, but it's only a second until he relaxes and pulls me even closer.

"Good morning, beautiful."

His voice is low and gravelly, and it sends a shiver down my spine—the kind that makes me clench my thighs and rub my legs together.

I poke my ass out a little bit, and _oh! There it is!_

His hiss confirms that morning wood is in the house—I always wondered if that was bullshit guys made up as an excuse to get off. Apparently not.

"You have _no idea_ how much I wish we had time for that," he murmurs, sliding his hips back. "But I know if we start, I won't be able to stop, and my dad will find us here, and then _your_ dad will feed me to the bears."

Lust and irritation flare at the same time—I want to palm him and then suck his cock, but I also want to find my dad and smack the shit out of him because I know Edward didn't come up with the "bears" thing on his own.

I quell both feelings and roll to face him, and I just stare because he's all freckles and muscles and emerald eyes and ridiculous sex hair, and mmm … _boy_.

"Hi," I say, and I know my smile must be brilliant because the one he gives me in return takes my breath away.

"Um … so last night was …"

He lowers his eyes, and I absolutely can _not_ have that.

"Last night was amazing! Well, for me, at least," I add hastily. _Oh, shit, what if he regrets it?_

His lips curl into an I-just-got-my-ego-boosted smirk until he looks back up at me.

"Bella, last night was the best night of my life," he says, stroking my cheek.

I melt on the inside but grin on the outside, and he reads my mind with remarkable clarity.

"And not just the best night of my dick's life. I mean the best night of _all of me's_ life."

And now I kiss the living crap out of him, pouring all the warmth of love and the heat of lust into the swipes of my tongue and the strokes of my fingers through his hair.

 _How the fuck am I going to live without him for a whole week?_

I pull him closer, and his groan when his cock finds friction sets every part of me aflame.

 _One more time. I'm sore, but fuck it. I'll have a week to recover—_

The solid thump on the door makes us both jump.

"Edward! We gotta leave in about ten minutes if we wanna beat Dad back!"

"Fuck!" Edward swears, closing his eyes in frustration.

"All right, Em! We'll be down in a few!"

He runs his fingers through his hair, but I'm not willing to let anything spoil the mood.

"Hey. You'll be back in a week, and then we'll have all the time in the world to be together like this."

"Argh!" he groans as he rolls onto his back. "This week is gonna be hell."

I try not to laugh, but I can't help it. I know he'll miss me, but he's a teenage boy—this week is gonna be hell on his balls.

"That's funny?"

"Well, you can call or text me anytime you want, and when you need to, you can think about last night and relieve your … hell. You can even call me while you're doing it."

"Oh, _fuck_ ," he murmurs, and he just stares at me wide-eyed, not even breathing. _I think I broke him._

"Breathe, Edward," I say, and he huffs out a laugh, palming his face.

" _Christ_ , Bella, I … are you trying to kill me?"

"No, but I _am_ trying to make sure you miss me," I say, dropping a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"And _I'm_ trying to figure out how I'm going to survive without you until Monday," he says, and those talented fingers rake through his hair, and I put a hand on my chest to make sure I'm still here in the wake of the explosion of … I don't even know what that just happened in my chest.

"We'd better get dressed," Edward says, although his hands are still roaming up and down my sides. "I've gotta sit next to Emmett for four hours on a plane today, and I'd prefer he not be an angry bastard the entire time."

And that reminds me how very early it is, and how long we spent exploring each other last night.

"Why don't you stay here and just let Emmett drop me off? We didn't get a lot of sleep last night, and you could get a few more hours in before your flight."

He opens his mouth to argue, then freezes, and I know the lightbulb of what I'm _not_ saying just went off in his head.

"Fuck. You're right, that probably would be a good idea. I'm sor—"

I cut him off with a kiss, but when I pull away, I can still see the apology in his eyes.

"I'll just go get dressed," I tell him, and the reluctance with which he lets go of me warms the embers of what's left of my chest. And his tortured groan when I bend over to grab my things obliterates them, but somehow, I manage to keep walking and close the bathroom door.

When I come out, he's sitting on the side of the bed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and the only way I can resist straddling his knees and burying my fingers in his hair is to walk right by and out his bedroom door.

He follows behind me, and as we reach the bottom of the stairs, Emmett is just walking in the front door.

"Where were you?" Edward asks, stopping next to me in the foyer.

"I took Rosie home first. I figured it would take you guys a bit to get down here, and things would be … easier if we weren't all in the car together."

"Did she get over it last night?"

"Yeah, and then she got under, and on top, and—"

"Whoa, TMI!" Edward yells, covering his ears. "And I _know_ Bella doesn't wanna hear that shit!"

Emmett smirks, but he's ashamed enough to drop his chin as his cheeks redden.

"Anyway, everything's okay. How come you're not dressed?" Emmett asks, his brow furrowing.

Edward flushes and shoots guilty eyes my way.

"Well, we were up pretty late last night, and we have our flight this afternoon … Bella thought I should get some more sleep."

"Dude, what the— _oh_!" Emmett exclaims, and Edward's cheeks heat even more. "Right; good thinking. I'll run Bella home; you go back to bed."

Edward looks forlorn, and when I put my arm around his waist, his frown only deepens.

"I'll wait for Bella in the car," Emmett says, slipping out the door so we can say our goodbyes.

I drop my bag and wind my arms up his back, holding him against me until he relaxes and links his fingers behind me.

"I'll miss you so much," I tell him, and even though I swore they wouldn't, a few tears slide down my cheeks.

"I'll miss you too," he says, giving me a squeeze. "And not just my dick."

I can't help but laugh, and when I pull back and he wipes away my tears, I know he said it just to lighten the moment—maybe to make us both remember this isn't the end of the world.

"I'll call you every night," he says, cupping my cheeks. "And I'll text you when I can, and—"

"Have a good time with your family," I tell him, leaning forward to peck his lips, but instead, his tongue is suddenly in my mouth, and his cock is pressing against my leg and—

 _Honk!_

"Fuck!" Edward swears against my lips, and his kisses become more urgent. I pull his hands away and step back, but his lips follow me, making little kissy noises and the cutest fish-face I've ever seen.

"Go back to bed, weirdo!" I yell, and his laughter is the last thing I hear as I close the front door.

The ride home with Emmett is quiet, and part of me wants to leave it that way because we're still pretty awkward with each other, but he's so good to Edward that I can't not say anything.

"Thank you," I say, and Emmett startles, looking over at me.

"Edward and I had a great time last night, and I know he appreciates all the things you do for him. And I do, too."

"He's my brother," Emmett answers, as if that explains it all. He really has no idea how few kids our age would share that view.

"He's lucky to have you," I observe, but Emmett doesn't respond.

When we pull up my driveway, I hop out quickly but turn around and lean over to meet Emmett's gaze.

"Have a good time in Chicago."

"We will ... and …thanks," he says, smiling as I shut the door.

Emmett has never smiled at me before. It doesn't have the same effect on me as his brother's crooked grin, but I feel warm as I walk up the driveway this cold December morning nonetheless.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

Edward calls.

Edward texts.

Edward is all I think about for every minute of every day he's away to the point that Charlie has threatened to arrest Edward for breathing if I say his name one more time. And the only reason he's that calm about it is he knows we can't possibly be fucking if Edward is in Chicago.

That will change very soon. In fact, Edward's probably in the air right now, on his way back to me.

It's been the longest week of my entire life, but it had some bright spots, too. Watching Edward come is fantastic, but listening—being able to focus on every ragged intake of his breath, every moan of pleasure, every grunt as he pulses, losing his shit over my dirty mouth and the strokes of his own hand—phone sex needs to be a weekly occurrence from now on, and I won't be taking no for an answer.

I pass the hours reading, and when I jerk awake, it's dark outside.

And my phone is ringing!

I dive across the bed as the Game of Thrones theme fills my room—Edward's ringtone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, beautiful. I'm sorry it's so late! We got delayed after boarding, and my dad was a dick about us using our phones—"

"But you're home, right?"

"Yeah, I'm home."

The flutter starts in my stomach, and by the time it reaches my chest, it's a starburst, tingling happiness radiating in every direction.

"Best thing I've heard all week. Well, other than you coming for me."

I can't tell if the sound he makes is a sigh or a moan, but I know I've hit my mark.

"Thanks for that; you just resolved the debate of whether I'm going to shower tonight or in the morning."

I laugh and it feels so good. Everything is lighter now that he's only ten miles away, and tomorrow, he'll be closer still.

"Hit the showers then, dirty boy. It's almost eleven, and we have school tomorrow."

"I know. This week has crawled by. I can't wait to see you."

"Me, either. Sweet dreams."

"You too, Bella."

I float to school in the morning. Down the stairs, out of the house, down the noisy hallway—my toes don't touch the ground until I need them to raise my lips to Edward's.

" _Fuck_ , Bella, I think I've missed every single thing about you."

The kiss is brief, but the heat of his arms and the smell of his cologne and the feel of his cheek against my forehead go on and on and on … until the bell rings.

Angela and I hung out over Christmas, but The Gothlet has been radio silent since the night of the dance. Which worked out well because I was planning on avoiding The Eyes of Sauron anyway, confident that her X-ray vision would be able to detect the penis-print inside of me, or some other crazy shit.

And I'm right.

As soon as Edward lets go of my hand in homeroom, The Eyes scan me, and by the time they reach my face, they're wide and at Fahrenheit 451. Hide your books, bitches!

"You did it," she whispers quietly, and it's such a contrast from the gaze that's incinerating me that I don't even know how to respond.

"Did what?"

"You know what," she says, nodding slowly. "You're on the other side now; you can never go back."

What the fuck? I didn't sail into the West with the Elves; I just slept with my boyfriend.

"Alice—"

"So, was it good? Did it … hurt at all? How many—"

"Holy shit, Alice! Would you keep it down!" I whisper-yell because the stoner next to her is blatantly staring, and Bubble Butt and Bitch Face may not be looking, but I know they're listening.

"Sorry! It's not every day your best friend cashes in her—"

"Savings bonds!" Angela yells.

It attracts the whole room's attention, and Angela turns beet red, but I've never been more grateful to another human being in my entire life.

While all eyes are on Angela, I give The Gothlet a smack and a glare, and she finally clues in that maybe Ang and I weren't the only ones listening. Bitch Face never turned around to stare at Angela, but the hunch of her shoulders sends a chill down my spine. Did she hear enough to piece it together?

I certainly fucking hope not because the last thing Edward needs is another school-wide gossip fest to drive his anxiety through the roof.

The day passes quietly. Stolen kisses at my locker, Edward's hand in mine all through lunch, and giving him a hard-on in biology by passing him dirty notes drive all thoughts of Bitch Face out of my head … until after school.

The warmth of Edward's last kiss is still on my lips—he's already gone outside to track down Emmett and tell him that he'll be going home with me. Charlie is on night shift tonight, so Edward and I have the whole evening to get naked—err, reacquainted. _Oh, who am I kidding? I was right the first time!_

Warmth floods through me, and I can't help but smile, and pack my books just a little faster. Visions of naked Edward dance in my head as I close my locker and shoulder my bag, but everything stops when I nearly bump into Bitch Face, arms crossed and blocking my path.

" _Excuse_ me," I say, with as much irritation as I can muster, and it's a pretty good amount, considering she's standing between me and my next orgasm, not to mention the gorgeous guy I'm in love with.

"Oh, not so fast, Bella! We haven't had the chance to catch up. Did you have a good time at the Christmas dance?" she asks, grinning at me as if we're best friends, except for the evil gleam in her eyes.

I stop and take a step back. _What the hell is she playing at?_ I can't imagine why she'd ask me that, but for once, I have a response that'll knock that prissy grin off her face, and even though I know I shouldn't, I just can't resist the temptation.

"I had a fantastic time, both during and _after_ the Christmas dance. I spent the night at Edward's." Her eyes go wide, and before she can formulate a response, I continue. "I wonder what we did that night. Oh, _now_ I remember! We had mind-blowing sex, and he told me he loved me."

It's a bit of a lie because he hasn't actually said the words yet, but I know he's going to, so it's all good.

Bitch Face's hand flies to her chest, and she gasps, looking horrified, but then a slow smile spreads across her face and she giggles.

 _Has she lost her mind?_

"Oh, this is beyond perfect! He actually slept with you and told you he loved you to convince you to stay with him? What could he possibly need from you that would make him go that far?"

I freeze, and although her words make no sense to me, ice shoots down my spine.

"What are you talking about?"

" _Well_ ," Bitch Face says, pulling a folded paper from her pocket as she leers at me. "I _told_ you he's too good for you, but you just didn't listen, did you? He's only been with you because he needed you to do something for him. I knew it was just a game, and this note Emmett gave Rosalie proves it. What did he need you to do for him that I can't do, Bella? What makes _you_ so special?"

 _Oh, my God._

It feels like all the air has left the hallway as I snatch the note out of Bitch Face's hand. I glance at the To and the From, and then my eyes zero in on Edward's name halfway down the page.

 _Don't worry about Edward. He'll be busy dating someone he needs a favor from. Maybe he'll even get some._

A favor.

 _What makes_ you _so special?_

I flinch as the answer fills my head—there's only one thing that makes me special when it comes to Edward. Only one thing I know that nobody else knows.

The words swim before my eyes as my stomach goes into freefall. _No ..._

Bitch Face stands there watching me, a satisfied, cold smirk on her face. "Were you a virgin, Bella? Did he tell you he was too? That's the oldest trick in the book, you know."

I want to just curl up in a ball and die, but I'm not about to give Bitch Face the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I crush the note in my fist and force myself to walk away, my back straight and my head held high. Her cruel laughter follows me down the hall, and I wince as the gaping hole in my chest opens just a little wider.

 _No, it can't be true._

I don't know where to go—what to do. The school bustles about me as if nothing is wrong, conversation and laughter echoing down the hallways as my world crashes down around me, and I struggle to breathe. I open the note and read the words again, but the hole in my chest is so large I can't feel anything. I don't want to believe it, but there it is in black and white, and the voice in the back of my mind softly whispers, _I told you so_.

I shift my bag and walk out the front doors of school, and as the cold air hits me so does the realization that Edward's supposed to come to my house today, and he and Emmett are waiting for me.

My eyes scan the parking lot, and I see them both standing beside Emmett's car. Edward's laughing as he gives Emmett a playful shove, and suddenly, the hole in my chest explodes. It's like a volcano, spitting red-hot rage and embarrassment, seething with betrayal. I storm across the parking lot, barely able to contain my fury as heat blazes up my neck and cheeks. Emmett catches sight of me and flinches, grabbing Edward by the shoulder and turning him to face me.

Edward smiles as he recognizes me, but he freezes as he sees my furious blush and the fire in my eyes.

"Bella, what—" he begins, but I just grab him by the arm, pulling him toward the trees.

"We need to talk— _now_ ," I grit out, and he glances helplessly at Emmett. Emmett shrugs and crosses his arms, leaning against the car to wait for us.

I let go of Edward as soon as we're out of sight of the cars in the parking lot and round on him, tears streaming down my face as anger courses through my veins.

"How _could_ you!" I scream at him, pounding my fists on his chest. He grabs me under the elbows instinctively, and I wrench my arms out of his grasp, turning and wrapping them around myself.

"How could I … what?"

I realize the note is still crumpled in my fist, and I throw it at him. He's unprepared but he bends down and catches the paper before it hits the ground, a bit of fear now registering on his face.

"I should have _known_! You were willing to do anything— _anything_ —to protect your secret! I should have known it was all an act! But I fell for it! And I—I _slept_ with you!" I rage, pacing back and forth.

"Oh, I bet you and _Emmett_ had a good laugh about _that_! 'Poor, dumb Bella! She's stupid enough to date me, _and_ to let me in her pants!'" I say mockingly as the tears continue to stream down my face.

"No—" comes the whisper from behind me.

I whirl around to find Edward staring at me, all the color drained from his face, the little white paper visibly shaking in his hand. At least, he has the decency to be upset that he's been caught rather than being even crueler to me.

"No what, Edward? No, you didn't brag to Emmett? No, you can't believe you got caught? Spit it out so I can get the hell out of here. I don't know why I'm still here anyway!" I yell, my hands coming up to cover my face.

"No, it's not like that," he says quietly. I just stand there, shaking and crying, cursing myself for my inability to make myself leave. I can't look at him, don't ever want to see his face again because I know every time I do, my heart will break all over again, because I love him.

I hear the crunch of leaves near me as he comes closer.

"Bella, it's not like that. I'm with you because I care about you …" He swallows painfully. "I'm with you because I love you. I've been trying for weeks to figure out how to tell you, even _before_ you said it to me. This certainly isn't the way I would have chosen." He's trying to remain calm, but I can hear the tremor in his voice.

His words just make me even angrier. Is this how far he's willing to go to protect himself?

"Is this not true? Look me in the eyes, Edward, and tell me you didn't start dating me to make sure I kept your secret." I realize I'm actually pleading with him. I want, to the very depths of my soul, for him to explain this—for there to be some way he truly isn't capable of this. I look up at him, and I have my answer before he even opens his mouth. His eyes mirror his guilt, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

"It's true, but it was only true at the very beginning! It changed, and I fell in love with you, and I never wanted you to find out how it started."

"Would you ever have even _looked_ at me if I hadn't been there that day?"

He looks like he's going to throw up, and that's exactly the way I feel.

"I'm sorry, Bella! I'm so fucking sorry! I was wrong! I should never have done it in the first place, and I should have told you the truth when I decided I wanted to stay with you. Please, _please_ forgive me," he pleads, putting his hand on my arm.

I jump back as if I've been burned. "Forgive you? _Forgive_ you? I don't even believe you! Why should I? I know you'd do anything to keep your secret, so why would I believe you wouldn't do this too? You've already admitted you _used_ me to get what you needed—why wouldn't you go all the way?"

"Bella, please, just listen—" he begs, reaching out toward me again.

" _Don't_ touch me," I snap, my eyes flashing.

"What can I do?" he asks beseechingly, the sorrow and pain plain in his eyes. It looks genuine, but then I remind myself that so has everything he's done over the past few months. He's a good liar—he has to be.

"You can stay away from me, and never talk to me again!" I yell, turning on my heel and shaking off his hand as he tries to stop me.

I run headlong toward the parking lot and don't slow down until I get to Emmett's car. I barely glance at him as I fly by, calling, "Edward needs a ride home," over my shoulder.

* * *

A/N: Most of you knew it was coming. Oh, Edward, how are you gonna make it right? Chapter 31 will post on January 24.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

 **The first rule in keeping secrets is nothing on paper.  
\- Thomas Powers**

 **Edward**

As she turns and starts to run, my knees buckle, and I land heavily on the fallen leaves. I know there's no point in following her. She's furious, and she has every right to be. I lied to her, and she found out my secret. The second secret she's found out about me, and by far the worst of the two. I'm still reeling, the note clutched tightly in my fist. I recognized the handwriting immediately, but my brain just isn't putting together how this happened. I can't get past the anguish in her eyes and the fact that she didn't believe I'm in love with her.

I can't breathe. It's as if a weight has been dropped on my chest, and it's slowly crushing me, inch by agonizing inch. Sweat beads on my forehead as I struggle for breath, and the forest spins dizzily.

Suddenly, waves of nausea wash over me, and I lurch forward on my hands and heave the contents of my stomach onto the forest floor. I stay there, panting and gasping for a few minutes, but I know I have to get away from here. I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth and push myself unsteadily to my feet. My mind feels sluggish—I just can't put the pieces together. Something tells me I shouldn't see Emmett right now, so I turn away from the parking lot and stumble farther into the woods.

I was happy. Bella made me happy. The last few months were the best of all of high school, and I know she was the reason. The freedom of not having to hide anything from her was incredible, and she's so sweet and kind to me. She's the best thing that ever happened to me, and now …

My stomach turns as I see the look on her face in my mind again, and I wrap an arm around my middle to steady myself. I tried so hard to forget how all this started. I was so happy with her lately that it was easy to ignore that it had all been based on a lie. I look down at the note in my hand like I've never seen it before and open it to read the words that drove Bella away from me one more time.

 _Don't worry about Edward. He'll be busy dating someone he needs a favor from. Maybe he'll even get some._

The rest of the note isn't about me, and I have no idea what—wait, who did he write this note to? I look at the top of the paper and see for the first time that it was Rosalie. Emmett wrote a note to Rosalie, telling her that I was dating Bella to get her to do something for me and to get in her pants.

What.

The.

Fuck?

Suddenly, everything's crystal clear. Emmett. _Emmett_! _Jesus fucking Christ, why did Emmett write a note to Rosalie about why I was dating Bella?_ When did he do it, and how the hell did this note find its way into Bella's hands? White-hot rage boils through my veins until I truly think I'm going to explode. And then I hear it—Emmett's voice behind me, calling my name.

I turn and run headlong toward the sound, my fury growing with each pound of my feet against the unyielding ground. By the time Emmett comes into view, all I can see is red, and I launch myself at him, throwing the hardest punch I can at his face. His eyes widen as he sees me coming, and he's able to move in time so that my blow only glances off his jaw. It's still enough to turn his head, but the majority of my force lands on empty air. I turn to throw another punch, but now he's ready for me, and he easily grabs my fist before it makes contact. What he isn't ready for is the intensity of my desire to hurt him. While he holds my right hand in both of his, my left lands a punch to his kidney, and he springs backward in surprise.

"Edward, what the fuck—" he manages to stammer before I'm on him again, swinging with all I have. With a growl, he grabs my nearest fist and twists it behind my back, forcing me to my knees in front of him. I try to twist from his grip, and he growls again, putting a knee into my back and forcing me to the ground until I'm laying with my cheek pressed into the dirt, my arm forced upward painfully behind me and his knee in my back.

"Get the fuck off me!" I roar, twisting in his grasp and trying to free myself.

"Not a chance until you calm the fuck down!" he yells just as loudly. Still, I struggle, and Emmett shakes me until my teeth rattle.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he pants, as I become still under him. "First Bella runs out of the woods as if the hounds of hell were chasing her, looking like somebody died. And then you don't come back, so I have to search for you, and now this. What the hell happened?"

"Let me up," I say coldly.

"Are you going to talk instead of swinging at me? Because there's not a chance in hell I'm letting you move until you're calm enough to talk and not attack," he answers, tightening his grip on my wrist.

I take a few deep breaths to try to convince both of us that I can be civilized. "Yes, I'll stop swinging," I reply through gritted teeth.

I feel his knee leave my back, and I wince as he lets go of me. With all the struggling I've done, I think I just about dislocated my shoulder because pain shoots down my arm as Emmett releases it. I rub it as I get to my feet, my eyes never leaving Emmett.

"Now, why the hell are you trying to hurt me?" Emmett asks, making a visible effort to check his own temper.

"What the fuck is this?" I spit at him, wadding the note into a ball and firing it at him.

He flinches as the paper bounces off his chest, but as soon as he realizes it's only paper, he scoops it up from the ground and unfolds it. His eyes widen as he reads it, and all the color drains from his face.

"Where did you get this?" he whispers.

"From _Bella_ , right before she told me she never wanted to see me again!" I yell, and I launch myself at him again. This time, he just deflects my force as I get to him, and I end up overshooting him, my momentum propelling me past my mark. I'm out of my mind with rage, and my eyes fall on the nearest alder tree about ten feet in front of me. I keep running toward it, roaring my fury as I hit the trunk with all the force I can muster. I feel several pops as lights flare behind my eyelids, and I cry out as pain explodes in my hand. Falling to my knees, I cradle my injured hand to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut as a stream of expletives pours from my mouth.

"Dammit, Edward!" I hear Emmett exclaim behind me, hastening over to kneel down next to me.

My hand is already swelling spectacularly, and I know I've broken it in several places. The pain is intense, and nausea licks at my insides. It's enough to overpower my rage but not the pain of loss that lances through my chest.

"Is it broken?" Emmett asks, stretching out his hand toward me but knowing better than to touch me.

"Never mind," I say between clenched teeth. I open my eyes and glare at him, waiting for an explanation.

He flinches back, glancing down at the note he still holds in his fist. "Fuck, Edward, I am _so_ sorry about this," he says gravely, the skin around his eyes tight with remorse.

"When?" I bark, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. I shift my legs underneath me, pulling my knees up and wincing as I bring my aching hand to rest across my thighs. I lay my forehead against my knees, wondering if I'm going to pass out.

"Months ago," Emmett answers. "This note was written before you even decided you were going to date her—that first week after she saw you have a seizure. I can't believe Rosie kept it! What the fuck was she thinking? Did—did _she_ give this to Bella?"

"I don't know how Bella got it. She didn't say. Does it matter?"

"You bet your ass it matters," Emmett retorts hotly. "If Rosalie is responsible for this, even indirectly, she won't be my girlfriend anymore."

"Why, Emmett? Why would you write that down?" I ask, the fight in me all but gone. Tears begin to prick behind my eyes as the pain in my hand and the pain in my heart fight for dominance.

"I don't know. In the beginning, this all seemed so simple, like it was a good plan. I'm sorry I ever convinced you to date her, and I'm even sorrier that I _didn't_ convince you to tell her the truth when you really started to care about her. I thought there was no way she'd ever find out, and you could go along and be happy."

"Me too," I whisper.

"I'll tell Bella it's all my fault. I made you do this, and you shouldn't have to suffer for it."

My head snaps up, a flare of anger overriding everything else.

"Fuck you, Emmett! I don't want your pity!" I spit at him.

"Pity? You think that's what this is?" he says incredulously.

"Of course, that's what it is! You never let me take the fall for anything because you think I can't handle it. This is my fault, Emmett. _Mine_! I didn't have to listen to you, but I did, and now I have to deal with the consequences. I'm just as fucking capable as anyone else—my epilepsy has nothing to do with it!"

"I don't help you because I think you can't handle it," Emmett states, his tone dangerous.

"Well then, why, Emmett? I've never understood it. I can't stand that I never get in trouble for anything, and Mom and Dad always blame you! You all think I'm so weak—that I'm just going to fall apart or something! I try so fucking hard to be just like everyone else, but you guys cut me off at the knees before I can even get started. Just _stop_ it!"

Emmett leaps to his feet, his fists clenched as he stares down at me. "Goddammit, Edward, how can you fucking think that? I cover for you _not_ because I don't think you can handle it, but because you have so many goddamn things to handle! It's not fair! Why the hell did this happen to you? Why not someone else? Why not me? Don't you think I think about that every time I get in the car to drive you somewhere, every time you have to miss school? Every fucking time I step onto the football field, I think about how you'll never set foot on the court again! It's not fair! And I can't do a damn thing about it! The only thing I _can_ do is try to make things a little easier for you! I don't know how the hell you handle it all because I know I never could! You think I'm the strong one, but you're wrong—it's _you_! Fuck!"

He turns and stalks away a few steps, breathing heavily. I just stare at his back in stunned silence. I can't process it—too much has happened in the last hour and I can't take in any more. Now that my anger is again fading, the pain in my hand becomes almost unbearable. I do know one thing, though—right to the depths of my soul and for so many things today.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as the tears finally roll down my cheeks.

"Don't be fucking sorry," Emmett snaps, but a moment later, he's on his knees again. He squeezes my shoulder and then pulls my head against his chest in a rough embrace as I sob, the way he did when I was little and hurt, and Mom or Dad weren't around to comfort me.

We stay that way until I calm down, then he releases me.

"Edward, we've got to get you to Dad to have your hand looked at. The longer we wait, the worse it's going to be," Emmett says gently.

"Yeah, I know. I don't know if I can—"

"I'll help you," he says, getting to his feet and putting a hand under my armpit. I struggle to my feet, swaying as waves of dizziness wash over me, and my stomach threatens to revolt again. Emmett puts a shoulder under my arm and holds me around the waist, and I hold my injured hand tightly against my stomach as we walk. I rest my head against my own shoulder and close my eyes—it makes the dizziness easier to deal with—as we slowly make our way back to the car.

Emmett calls ahead, and Dad is waiting for us in the ER. As Emmett explains what happened, Dad takes one look at my red-rimmed eyes and vacant expression, and he knows better than to say anything just then. My mother is a completely different story. After she finds out how I've hurt myself, she lays into me until Emmett and Dad both step in—Emmett to defend me and Dad to keep her from screaming at the both of us.

After my argument with Emmett, all the fight is gone from me. I just want to be numb. What I really want is alcohol, but since I can't have that, Percocet is a good substitute. I cry out and nearly jump off the exam table the second Dad tries to even touch my hand, so he gives me a hefty dose and waits until it takes effect before he proceeds.

Once I'm drugged up, all the pain is muted—both the pain in my hand and the pain in my heart. I still scream when they set the bones in my hand and wince as they do the casting, but for the most part, it's nothing compared to the way I felt out in the woods earlier this afternoon. What I really need to do is sleep. I can't wait for the sweet solace of oblivion, and the minute we get home, I go right up to my room and curl up on my bed.

It feels late when I wake again as Mom pulls off my shoes and spreads a blanket over me. She sees me watching her and she pauses, reaching out a hand to brush against my cheek.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, and I just stare up at her as the tears well in my eyes. I close them and feel the drops escape down my cheeks, and I turn my head away so she won't see.

"Why don't I get you some more medicine? I bet your hand is hurting," she says kindly, and I just nod, my eyes still closed. My hand hurts like a motherfucker, but it's nothing compared to the ache in my heart and the tightness in my chest.

While she's gone, I get up and go to the bathroom, and when she gets back, I take the meds she brought, and she helps me change into my pajama pants. As I lay down, she sits next to me, stroking the hair on my forehead as the tears again creep down my cheeks.

Mercifully, she says nothing, and oblivion takes me before I can think too much.

* * *

A/N: Our situation has not improved. Oh, Edward, what a mess! He's going to have to go to school and face her—there's no escape from high school … See you in two weeks (February 7)!


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

" **When you care about someone, you can't just turn that off because you learn they betrayed you."  
― Paula Stokes, Liars, Inc.**

 **Bella**

It's been two days.

Two days since my world froze and then shattered, and the pieces tore into me like shards of glass as I ran from the woods.

Two days since I ate and slept.

Two days since I've allowed anyone but Charlie to talk to me.

Two days since I've seen … _him_.

Has it only been that long? It feels like a fucking lifetime.

Ang and The Gothlet cocoon me with concerned looks, but they haven't said a word since I threw a hand in their faces as I struggled not to sob. They don't know, but they do.

Resting Bitch Face has been positively giddy, but she's confused too—she doesn't know where her conquest is, and she doesn't know what happened between us.

Two days.

Where the _fuck_ is he?

I hate myself for every step I take up the hallway, passing _his_ locker and _our_ hallway and the entire junior and senior classes.

I walk up to Emmett, and I know at least half the senior boys are watching—a few of them with smirks on their faces, elbowing each other as I walk by. But I have to know, and this isn't any worse than every other waking moment of the last two days.

"Did you come to fuck this one too, Bella?" one of them sneers at me. The words make a small dent, but they fall to the ground and crumble, insignificant in the face of everything else that's happened.

 _Wow, Bitch Face, I'm honestly surprised it's taken you this long._

Emmett's head snaps up, his eyes going wide as they fall on me, then they narrow as they take in the leering crowd surrounding me.

"Shut the fuck up, Evan," Emmett growls, then his eyes shift warily to me. He takes me by the elbow and leads me to the end of the hall, casting warning glances at the snickering boys all around us as we go.

Once we're out of earshot, he turns and looks at me nervously.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, reminding myself that I only have to get out one little sentence, and then I can walk away. "Is he all right?" I say roughly, staring at Emmett's sneakers.

Emmett's quiet for so long that I risk a glance up at him, and he's staring at me the same way I've sometimes seen him stare at Edward when Edward doesn't know he's watching. It's tender and sorrowful.

He nods his head. "He's … okay. He was really out of it yesterday, and today is a 'vacation' day," he says, looking at me significantly. Of course, I know that means today is a seizure day. Dammit. But what was that about yesterday?

"Wait, why was he out of it yesterday?"

"He … um … he broke his hand after you left, and he was in a lot of pain, so Dad had him pretty doped up," Emmett says uncomfortably.

I try not to react, but the gasp escapes my lips, and my hand flies to my mouth before I'm even aware I'm doing it. What the hell did he do? I don't know why I care, but somehow, I do, and my shattered heart breaks just a little more in spite of myself.

I turn to go, but Emmett grabs my arm, turning me back to face him. "Bella, I am _so_ sorry for my part in this. Rosalie is a bitch, and I dumped her. She had no right to share anything with Lauren, and I can't believe she'd save something like that anyway."

"It's all right," I say mildly. "It's not your fault your brother is an asshole."

Emmett looks as if I've punched him. He takes a deep breath and meets my eyes, but I hear his breathing accelerate and see the red creeping up his neck.

"Yes, this _is_ my fault because I put him up to it. I was the one who suggested he date you so you'd keep his secret."

My jaw drops, and I stop breathing. I can't take any more hurt, so the words wash over me numbly. I just nod, in a daze.

"Bella, I can't tell you how sorry I am! As soon as I saw how much you cared about him, I told him to break it off with you—that you were going to get hurt—but he told me he cared about you too, so I thought everything was going to be okay."

His words come out in a rush now, and I can feel his desperation to convince me.

"He really loves you, Bella, and he's _so_ sorry he did this, and that you found out, and that he didn't tell you in the first place ..."

His words fall on me like rain—sliding along my skin but not penetrating—rolling down my cheeks like the river I've already cried.

"I don't ... believe you."

The hurt in his eyes looks so similar to what I saw in Edward's two days ago that I have to look away—I can't watch the tentative friendship Emmett and I have built crumble.

"He really _is_ devastated, Bella. He wanted to kill me when he brought me the note, and he ended up hauling off and punching a tree when I wouldn't let him thrash me, and he broke his hand in three places. He spent that night in the ER getting his hand casted, and he hasn't left his room since."

God _damn_ my traitor heart! How? _How_ can I feel pain for _him_ after what he did to me? Why is the first thought in my head how much pain he must be in? _Why_ am I wondering how bad today's seizure was, given that they're always worse when he's under stress? _Fuck_!

Anger roars through me, and it feels so much better than the numb. It feels _alive_ —something I haven't felt since a scrap of paper destroyed everything.

"Good!" I shriek, and Emmett flinches, shocked.

"I hope it fucking hurts! He deserves it! He deserves that and so much more! How the fuck could he _do_ this to me just to protect himself? He's the most selfish, self-centered _asshole_ on the face of the earth!"

"Bella, he—"

"No, Emmett! He's still playing the game! He doesn't know how to do anything else, and he's fooled you too! Maybe he's even fooled himself! I don't know, and I don't fucking care! I can't trust him, and I oughta—"

I stop because, even though I'm furious, I can't voice that thought. I'm not that person, and no matter what he's done to me, I _won't_ let him turn me into that.

Emmett tenses. He knows exactly the precipice I stand upon.

His eyes widen, and as the words dare to leave his lips, I explode.

"You wouldn't—"

"No, Emmett, I fucking wouldn't. I never would have in the first place! That's the whole fucking point! I _never_ would have, even if Edward never spoke to me again after that day! I wouldn't because I'm not that kind of person, and I never will be!

"I'm not a self-centered _asshole_ who would do anything for my own gain!" I roar at him, all my anger coalescing into a single declaration.

Emmett's gaze hardens.

"Bella, you have no idea what it's like—"

" _Don't_ defend him, Emmett. Don't you dare fucking defend what he's done!" And I realize that even now, he's taking one for team Edward, standing here and letting me rage at him. _Fuck_!

"Fuck _you_ , fuck _him_! I wish I'd never met either of you! I'm done! I'm just so fucking done!" I scream, turning on my heel and tearing down the hall.

The entire senior class stops and stares as I run by, but I don't care—all I care about is getting as far away from any connection to Edward as possible. There's no way I can manage any more school today. If Resting Bitch Face even fucking _looks_ at me, I swear I'll rearrange her face. So I grab my shit and sign myself out without another word to anyone.

I drive until it's dark outside, not really thinking about anything, just trying to outrun the hollowness in my chest.

It doesn't work.

So I go home, force myself to eat a banana, and follow it up with a double of Benadryl. I can't spend another night lying awake and trying not to think.

I pass out pretty quickly but not before my pillow is damp.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

Fuck.

It's gonna happen today.

It should have happened two days ago, but Edward's absence slowed it down. A lot of it probably happened already—there's no way me tearing out of the school yesterday wasn't noticed and talked about, and it wouldn't take much to put that together with the rumors already circulating in the senior hallway.

But it's definitely gonna happen today because … because _he'll_ be there today.

I doubt it'll be a rough day for him. He has that great facade, that amazing ability to hide everything inside and to lie so convincingly, but I have none of those skills, and it's gonna be all over my face. It's _been_ all over my face for _three days_ now, but no one cared enough to see it. That's about to change.

I'm about to be the center of attention.

The slut who fell for Edward Cullen's classic maneuver.

The breed 'em and street 'em.

The fuck 'n run.

The wham, bam, now fuck off, ma'am.

The drive-by.

I honestly don't know which is worse—him leading me on so I'd keep his secret or doing it to get in my pants. Maybe he did both; or, maybe getting in my pants was just a lucky bonus. The floating cherry in his Pacman game. Son of a bitch, it _was_ my cherry, wasn't it?

 _But it was his cherry too, wasn't it?_ The thought echoes in the back of my mind, but I quickly squash it. Guys don't give a shit about who they give their cherry to, and the whole damn school thinks Edward's slept around anyway. No one will know I was his first.

 _But you do. Why would he admit that? He certainly didn't have to._

Who the hell knows? Maybe he thought it would help him get in my pants. Maybe it was a lie too, just like Bitch Face said.

The thought rings hollow, even though I wish it rang true. I _was_ Edward's first, and it was—

I curl in a ball to try to escape the pain, but it feels as if my chest isn't even there. It's just … a hole where my heart used to be. A tightness in my throat that leads to … nothing. There's nothing until the anger or the tears come. And I can't control which one it's gonna be from one moment to the next. And I don't really even care.

I roll out of bed and stalk to the bathroom. _Let's get this shit show of a day over with._

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The stares begin before I even make it to the upperclassmen's end of the hall, and the whispers give me a preview of the hell I'm about to be subjected to.

" _Yeah, I heard he slept with her and then dumped her ass right after the dance."_

" _Why would she date a jackass like him anyway? He's gorgeous and popular, but everybody knows he just uses girls for sex."_

" _I never understood what he saw in her, unpopular as she is. Must have just been the promise of pussy."_

That last one makes me stumble because it's so damn close to the truth, and the laughter of the sophomore boys chases me up the hallway.

All I want to do is grab my books and slink off to homeroom, but when I get to my locker, The Gothlet is standing there, breathing fire like a balrog of Morgoth.

"I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna cut his fucking balls off with Ivan and stuff them down his throat until he chokes! That goddamn son of a bitch! Even _that's_ too good for him, I—"

"Alice," I say, and it's meant to be an admonishment but my voice breaks, and it comes out as a pitiful whimper.

And I'm knocked back a step by the force of my suddenly human-again friend crushing me in her embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't want to be right, truly I didn't. What really happened?"

The lack of sound catches my attention, and I lift my head from her shoulder to see everyone around us staring and listening.

"Not now, Alice," I say, quickly rubbing the back of my fist across my cheek to wipe the tears away.

The Gothlet nods, and she and Ang wait and walk on either side of me to homeroom, chatting about this and that to distract me from the continued barrage of stares and whispers.

But their seats are near the front of the room, and as I walk back alone between the desks of the popular crowd, it's like running some sort of abuse gauntlet.

"All alone today, Bella?" Bitch Face asks, cocking her head with the sweetest smile as Bubble Butt giggles her frizzy little head off. "Where _is_ Edward anyway? Now that he's single, I'm sure we'll be the very best of friends again."

I just roll my eyes at the stupid bitch—if Edward is dumb and desperate enough to crawl back to _that_ , then maybe they were made for each other. But pain still echoes through the emptiness in my chest, and I hate that I just can't stop caring.

I collapse into my seat, leaning back and letting the weight of my pain crush me for a moment, but I nearly jump out of my skin as warm breath hits my ear.

"Eddie boy may have gotten your cherry, but when it's my turn, I want the whole pie. How 'bout it, Bella? I've got something long and loose and full of juice right here for you."

Ice shoots down my spine as I propel myself forward to lean over my desk as far away from Austin as I possibly can be. Bile rises in my throat as he chuckles behind me, and for the first time, a different type of shame washes over me.

All this time, I've been feeling ashamed that I fell for Edward's lies, that I allowed myself to be blinded by my own feelings enough to believe in him. But now, I realize what I've done has branded me as a slut, and these assholes are expecting that I'll let them pass me around like a whore—like some goddamn flavor of the week.

I want to vomit.

I want the earth to swallow me up, and I want to go back to Phoenix, and I want to go back to September so I can do this all again and avoid the fucking asshole who broke my heart at all costs, but I can't.

I can't even avoid that motherfucker today.

I shiver when I feel his eyes on me, and a fresh wave of pain clutches at my chest. I don't want to look up, but there's no way I'm not going to—my eyes have been drawn to that perfect face every day since I first saw him walk through that very door.

He looks like complete and utter hell.

His hair is more disheveled than I've ever seen it—and not in a sexy way—in a haphazard way as if he's been pulling at it. There are dark smudges under his eyes, and his face is as white as a sheet, his lips drawn tightly as if he's in pain.

He's hunched over, curling his body around his right arm, which is immobilized in a high sling across his chest. And I can certainly see why—his thumb and first two fingers are purple and ridiculously swollen, and the rest of his hand and forearm are encased in a blue fiberglass cast.

I draw in a sharp breath, my eyes snapping to his out of pure habit, and I nearly fall out of my chair.

His eyes are wells of pure sorrow edged with more pain than I've ever seen, and they speak to me as they always have—telling me how sorry he is as they grow glassy with unshed tears.

And so many desires and emotions overwhelm me that I feel like I'm gonna explode.

I want to throw my arms around him and comfort him, do whatever I can to erase the haunted looked in his eyes.

I want to slap him so hard his ears ring, and then kick him in the balls.

I want to make love to him again as if none of this had happened.

I want to scream and rage at him for lying to me, for breaking my heart, for making me love him.

And I want to kick my own ass for falling for his lies, for daring to believe that he truly _was_ interested in anything more than protecting himself.

I can't control the tears that roll down my cheeks, and I hate myself for letting him see what he's done to me. His eyes soften, and I see so much longing there, and I can't even define the twisted emotion it evokes in me, so I just stare at him in abject misery.

"Edward! What happened to you?"

Bitch Face's screech breaks the spell between us, and we break eye contact as she pops up from her desk and rushes to take Edward's books.

He composes his face immediately, and I feel sick to my stomach.

I can't watch, and I don't want Bitch Face or anyone else to see my tears, so I stare down at my desk as they take their seats.

"Holy shit, bro! Repetitive motion injury?"

The populars snicker at Austin's comment, and even Edward manages a chuckle.

"Nah, Emmett was working the heavy bag Monday night, and like a dumb fuck, I decided to take a few swings without taping up. Damn thing hurts like a motherfucker, and I've been high as a kite on Percs for the last two days."

The lie rolls off his tongue with no hesitation, and it's accepted without question, just like every other one he's ever told. Just like all the ones he told me. And suddenly, all the crazy emotion I've been feeling morphs into anger.

I grip the edges of my desk, seething, and it takes every ounce of control I have not to jump up and tell everyone that the dumbass punched a tree after I dumped him. But that would raise so many other questions, and I don't want anyone in my business, and I know they'd never believe me over him anyway.

"Oh, you poor thing! How awful! What can I do to make it better?"

Bitch Face's saccharine-sweet voice scrapes at my brain like nails on a chalkboard, and I'm both dying for and dreading Edward's response. The morning bell sounds, and Mr. Varner settles the debate by calling the room to order, and at this moment, there's only one thing I'm sure of—this is gonna be one holy motherfucker of a long and painful day.

* * *

A/N: Let the fallout begin … see you February 21st!


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

 **Tell a lie once and all your truths become questionable.  
-Anonymous**

 **Edward**

"Edward, honey, wake up."

 _Mom's voice and a killer headache—my favorite combination. But why is my fucking hand throbbing like the bones want to break out of my skin?_

And then it all comes rushing at me like a tidal wave, and the pain that erupts in my chest knocks the wind out of me.

 _Bella._

 _Oh, God, no._

I watch in horror as the pieces click together in my mind: the note, the hate and sorrow in Bella's eyes, my white-hot rage at Emmett, the excruciating pain in my hand. And then, the need to forget—as many Percocet as Dad would give me, sleeping and waking in misery, the panic attack I worked myself into when I finally sobered up.

The ice pick in my temple tells me a seizure must have followed. Without warning. Again.

 _Holy mother of …_ I don't know any words strong enough for this almighty clusterfuck.

I roll to my side, cradling my throbbing hand to my chest while the other presses against my skull, trying to relieve … something, even the tiniest bit of fucking misery, but instead, I just start feeling nauseous.

A groan escapes me as I release my head to clutch at my stomach, and when I open my eyes, Mom is right there, hovering.

"Here, let's sit you up," she says softly as she helps me shift against the headboard. "You haven't really eaten since Monday, so I thought you might need these before you try to get up."

 _How does she always know?_

The Gatorade soothes my dry throat, and the PB and J gives my stomach something to do rather than chew on itself. And I don't think I've ever been more grateful for Mom's overbearing nature in my entire life.

She sits beside me gingerly, her hand reaching to brush the hair from my face, but I wince before she even makes it halfway.

"Headache?"

I start to nod, then stop abruptly with a grunt. "Yeah. And my hand hurts like a—a lot."

The corner of Mom's mouth lifts in a smirk—she knows what I was going to say.

"Here, Dad left you codeine for now and some for later too. He says to keep your hand elevated in the sling or else straight up in the air so the swelling will start to go down. Lying in bed for the last two days hasn't done your fingers any favors."

I glance down at my hand, and the purple sausages currently standing in for my fingers make me queasy just looking at them. _Fuck._

"Do you want to try to go to school today? If you're not feeling up to it …"

I _feel_ like finding what's left of yesterday's Percocet and checking out until Easter, but I have to go in today. I have to tell Bella how much I love her and convince her to forgive me.

The icky I used to feel over my deception of her has gained a hundred pounds and rests in my stomach as dead weight, except for when it rises in my chest and chokes all the breath out of me. I just have to find a way to make this right.

I struggle through my morning routine, one-handed and codeine-trippy, and I tuck my entire stash of Xanax in my bag as I leave my room. I want to see her so badly, but I have no idea what will happen when I do and if I'll be able to handle it. I can't afford another panic-induced seizure at school today.

 _Wouldn't that just be karma, after everything I've done to—_

I squeeze my eyes shut against the thought. I can't even contemplate the fact that I may have lost her. I know what she said, but it's just not possible.

I—I can't live without her.

The weight in my gut threatens to rise and choke me, and I have to stop and take a few deep breaths, convince myself that I can fix this. I have to be able to fix this.

I walk into the kitchen, and Emmett is sitting at the table cutting up a stack of waffles dripping with syrup. Across from him is a glass of OJ and two strawberry frosted Pop Tarts on a plate.

"What's this?"

Emmett meets my eyes. "I made you breakfast. _Not_ because you can't do it for yourself but because I thought it would be a bitch to do with just one hand."

 _Fuck._ My cheeks grow hot as I remember what I yelled at him in the woods on Monday. Although he's sat with me over the last two days, I was either high or in a shitload of pain. Not exactly the best time for apologies.

"I'm sorry, Em. I—"

"No, _I'm_ sorry. I got you into this mess—"

"No, you didn't," I say, huffing out a breath. "It may have been your idea, but I'm the one who decided to do it. It was my choice, and I'll take the consequences."

Em closes his eyes, his lips set in a firm line.

"I dumped Rosalie. I should have done it long ago, but I honestly never thought she'd do something like this."

"She didn't know—"

"Doesn't matter. She should have trusted me; that I had a reason for what I was doing. Your life is none of her business, and she should have butted the fuck out when I told her to. She was a bitch to you, and I shouldn't have let it go on as long as I did. I was … blinded."

"Blinded?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. "Were you in love with her?"

"Fuck, I don't know. I don't think so. The sex was really fucking good," he admits, staring down at his plate. "But, there _are_ actually more important things in the world than good pussy. I just forgot that for a while. Forgive me?"

I stare at him, and before I can answer, he rambles on.

"And I have no idea why I wrote that line in the note. In September, I was a dumb fucker with pussy on the brain and my head being ground into the turf every day at practice. I am _done_ writing notes to girls. They keep that shit like goddamn pack rats—"

"Em, stop! Jesus Christ! I don't think I've heard you say that much at once since the Seahawks lost the Super Bowl!"

He stops and stares at me, his eyes as wide as I've ever seen them.

"I know you didn't mean to do it. But fuck, I really wish you hadn't," I say, running the fingers of my useable hand through my hair.

"Me too," he says, closing his eyes as he frowns.

We're both silent as we finish our breakfast, and I allow Em to clean up after me and carry my bag out to the car without saying a word. His words from Monday echo in my head, and I see every time he's ever covered for me in a new light. I knew he was a good brother, but _fuck_ , he's a _really_ good brother.

"So … what's the deal at school?"

Emmett side-eyes me, and the weight in my gut feels a little heavier. "The rumor is you fucked Bella and then dumped her. It hasn't exploded yet, probably because you've been absent and Bella _was_ being quiet about it."

"Was?"

"Yeah. Until yesterday afternoon when she came to ask me if you were okay, and she … well, she kind of handed me my ass."

"She _what_?"

"She screamed at me about what you did, and I admitted it was my idea."

"How did _that_ go over?"

"About like you'd expect," Em says, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm sure we were overheard, then she tore down the hallway and signed herself out for the rest of the day. After that, people started talking."

"Mother _fucker_!"

My stomach feels like a lead weight, and I just hurt everywhere. _I've caused her so much pain and heartache. Will she ever forgive me?_

"It'll probably be all over the school today. What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to talk to her."

"Um … I'm not sure that's such a—"

"Well, what the fuck _should_ I do, Emmett? I lied to her, and now she doesn't believe any of it was true! She doesn't believe I'm in love with her! What the fuck can I do other than talk to her—try to convince her that it only started as a lie, but it turned into the truth?"

I force the words out through the tightness in my chest, then I let out a disgusted growl because I can't even press my good fist there to try to relieve the pressure—my fucking broken hand is in the way.

"Deep breaths, Edward. I know how upset you are, but you've gotta keep it together."

"I know," I say as I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. I really have no plan for getting Bella to believe me, so the spiral of panic that I'm going to lose her is pretty close to the surface.

"I just—I don't know what I'm gonna do, Emmett. What can I say to make her believe me?"

"I don't know. Maybe if she still loves you and you grovel for a while, it'll be enough. We'll figure it out, okay? I only meant that maybe you should give her a few days to cool off before you try to talk to her. She's pretty fucking pissed right now."

"I can't wait, Em. I hurt her so much, and it's just killing me inside. I have to make this right."

"Okay then, talk to her. Just … tell her the truth. It's all you can really do."

"Yeah, okay," I say, finally able to breathe again. _She's just_ got _to believe me._

"So what's the story for your hand?" Em asks, and I want to put my good fist through the dashboard.

 _Fucking fantastic! Today, I'm going to try to convince Bella I'm telling the truth, all the while spreading another lie around school._

But I have no choice. Rumors are already flying that I fucked Bella and then dumped her—I don't want to add fuel to that by admitting we had a fight, and I punched a tree.

"Fuck! I don't know."

"Just tell 'em you hit my heavy bag barehanded. Lots of guys break bones hitting those, even with tape or gloves."

I nod because that's actually a good idea. It's simple, it doesn't involve Bella, and Em can back me up.

"Okay, I'll tell people that when they ask."

"And I'll say the same thing," Em says, nodding firmly. "See? One problem solved."

 _Son of a bitch, why couldn't it have been my other problem?_

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I carry my own bag into school, but Emmett stays with me with a hard look on his face—he can't shield me from the stares, but nobody says a fucking word. I let him unpack my shit and hand me my books too. I'll be able to do it for myself, but today my damn headache is so bad, I get dizzy when I bend over, and even the slightest nudge to anything on my right side sends pain radiating through my hand. I'm a goddamn fucking mess.

But all that fades into the background as I head toward homeroom.

Bella's there.

 _Will she even look at me? And God, what will I see in her eyes if she does?_

My breath freezes solid in my chest, and I duck into the bathroom as a wave of nausea rolls over me. No one's in there, so I just lean against the wall, breathing and swallowing bile, trying to clear my head.

 _It's okay. You're okay. You love her, and she loves you. She told you so. You can fix this. You can make it right._

I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, and it takes a few minutes, but my stomach eventually settles, and I'm able to take a full breath. I know I shouldn't do it with codeine in my system, but I fish a Xanax out of my pocket and swallow it dry. If I can't calm my nerves enough to avoid having a fucking panic-induced seizure when I see Bella, what happens after isn't going to matter to me anyway.

I wait until the first bell, hoping it was enough time for the drug to do something for me, and my first wobbly step down the hall confirms that Xanax has joined the party. Thank fucking God.

I'm so focused on putting one foot in front of the other that I don't even register when I step into homeroom until I look up and see Bella.

 _Oh, God, she looks like hell._

There's no color in her cheeks, and her lips are pale—she looks like a China doll that they haven't finished painting—and she's gripping the sides of her desk as if her life depends on it.

I meet her eyes, and pain and sorrow explode in my chest with the force of a nuclear bomb. And I just manage to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks.

 _I'm so sorry, Bella. I never meant to hurt you. I love you so much—you just_ have to _know that._

Her eyes blaze at me, and there's so much emotion there that I don't know if she wants to kill me or kiss me, but then a tear rolls down her cheek, and my heart splits in two.

 _Oh, Bella—_

"Edward! What happened to you?"

Lauren pops up like a fucking prairie dog right in front of me, and my books are out of my hand before I can even think about hanging on to them. Her plastic smile hits me like a bucket of cold water, and I quickly snap my mask into place, aware now that everyone is watching.

"Holy shit, bro! Repetitive motion injury?"

 _Fuck, that's funny!_ I think as I damn near giggle, and I'm shocked at my own response … until I remember that I'm buzzed on painkillers and anxiety meds.

"Nah, Emmett was working the heavy bag Monday night, and like a dumb fuck, I decided to take a few swings without taping up. Damn thing hurts like a motherfucker, and I've been high as a kite on Percs for the last two days."

 _In fact, I'm high right now._

But as I nearly fall into my seat, I see Bella tense and grip the sides of her desk even harder, and my buzz deflates like a blown-out tire.

 _So much of my life is a fucking lie. Am I really worth loving?_

I struggle through physics and English, but by the end of second period, I'm so drowsy I can't even see straight. I head to the nurse's office to rest for a little bit … and wake up four hours later to the sound of the eighth period bell, groggy and in pain.

 _Shit! I'm probably lucky I didn't stop fucking breathing!_

I pop a codeine because, although my headache is easing, my hand is fucking killing me, and I blend in with the changing classes and make my way to Spanish.

 _Bella probably thinks I went home and left her to deal with these assholes alone,_ I fret as I count down the minutes until I can see her and explain.

"Edward!" Lauren hisses at me, but I ignore her. Today, the only girl I wanna talk to is Bella. I have no time or energy for anyone else's bullshit.

Finally, the bell rings, and I make my way to my locker, making eye contact with no one. Putting shit away in my locker is easy, but getting it into my bag is another matter entirely. I curse as I drop my notebook for the second time, and Jasper swipes it before I can accomplish bending over.

"Here, hand me what you want in there and I'll do it," he says, and I nod with something resembling a smile on my face. "Are you okay?"

I think on that for a minute because I want to be honest with him.

"No, but hopefully I will be. Ask me tomorrow," I tell him as I put my hand out for my bag. He looks as if he has more to say, but I silently beg him to drop it, at least for now. I'm so focused on what I need to say to Bella that I just can't afford the distraction.

"Okay. We'll talk tomorrow then," he says as he turns away from me.

 _Thanks, Jasper. I owe you one._

I have yet to spot Bella, and the junior/senior end of the hallway is starting to clear out, so I head for the window to have a look at the parking lot. Her truck is still here, so I go back down to her locker to wait.

Between my nerves over the conversation I'm about to have and the effects of the codeine, I'm a bit shaky on my feet, so I slide down her locker until my backside is on the ground. My hand is still throbbing, but it's not as bad as this morning, so I pass the time by examining my fucked up fingers … until I feel her eyes on me.

Her face shows no emotion—a mask, just like the one I wear so often.

"Move."

"Bella, we need to talk," I say as I scramble awkwardly to my feet.

"I have nothing more to say to you."

Her words are an arrow straight into the center of my chest, and I don't hide their effect on me. I will never hide anything from her again.

"Then just listen, _please_ ," I beg, extending my hand toward her but not daring to touch.

She closes her eyes, and the mask crumbles for a second, but it's replaced with anger.

"What? What could you possibly have to say to me right now that I would want to hear? You—you put on a show with me. You lied to me from day one, pretending you were interested in what I had to say. Do you even _like_ Game of Thrones, or was that a fucking act too?

"And like a fucking _idiot_ , I fell for it! I let myself believe that someone from the popular crowd, this gorgeous boy, could be interested in me for _me_ and not to keep me quiet about—about what I saw!

"And as _you_ kept lying to me, I kept lying to _myself_! I convinced myself that I was the one person you never lied to. But I'm just like the rest in your eyes—someone to manipulate, someone to give you what you want. I'm nothing special."

I stare at her, not even knowing where to start trying to untangle the mess I've made. All I know is, I have to make her believe me.

"No. It was real. All of it was real! And you _are_ special!"

"Oh yeah? It was real when you apologized to Ang for the pictures? It was real those first few conversations in biology? The first time you talked to me in the library?"

She spits the words at me, her eyes demanding answers, and goddammit, I said I wasn't going to lie to her anymore. I drop my chin because I can't look her in the eyes when I admit this.

"No, it wasn't real then. I … I was afraid you'd tell everyone my secret, so I decided I had to get close to you, to make sure you didn't."

The words hurt _me_ , so I can't even imagine what they're doing to her.

She snorts derisively. "I would have been one of your targets, wouldn't I? Just like Ang and Alice. One of the misfits you did awful things to, to keep the focus away from you!"

 _Just tell her the truth. If you tell the truth, you can fix this._

"Yes, you probably would have been."

"Then what the fuck more do we have to say to each other?" Bella says, sounding half-angry and half-defeated, and I make the fatal mistake of looking up into her beautiful brown eyes that are drowning in tears and heartbreak. _God, I love her so fucking much! How could I do this to her?_

"I have to get out of here."

As she moves toward her locker, I snap out of it and realize this isn't going well at all—I haven't told her any of the things that really matter, and telling her the truth about the things I have hasn't helped. The panic starts to rise in my chest—I have to do something to turn this around and quickly!

"Bella, wait! I—I love you! As we spent time together, I realized how awesome you are, and I—I wanted to be with you! I fell in love with you, and I just wanted to forget how it started—can't we do that? I love you, and you love me—does anything else matter?"

She stops, and she's still for a whole minute before she raises her eyes to me, weary and desolate.

"Yes, Edward, something else matters. What matters is that we wouldn't be standing here, and I would still be a virgin, if you hadn't lied to me. You built everything on a lie, and I'm reliving everything—trying to figure out where the lies stopped and the truth began, if it even began at all. We both know that keeping your secret is the most important thing to you, and I believe you would even go _this_ far to keep it, to keep me close to you and to keep your secret safe."

Her bottom lip quivers, and my heart breaks into a thousand pieces as she bites it and fresh tears roll down her cheeks.

"You know what the worst part is? You never had to do any of this because I never would have told anyone what I saw. I'm not that kind of person, and I never _will_ be, but _you_ are, and I see that now. You only think about yourself, _your_ gain, so you assumed that I would too. That I would use what I knew to put you down and raise myself up. Even now, if what you're saying is true, _you_ love me, so _you_ want me to ignore how all this started. Have you _ever_ done anything for anyone other than yourself, Edward? I don't think you have."

She covers her mouth, her whole face crumbling into a sob behind her trembling fingers.

"Goodbye, Edward."

Her words shatter … everything. My heart and my head and _oh_ fuck _, I can't breathe!_

She's gone, but Emmett … _Ow, fuck! My arm! Can't breathe, can't breathe … No! Not here! I can't—_

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

It's dark, and I don't know what day it is. My head is likely to split open at any second, my hand is throbbing, and my chest feels like it's been hit by a mortar shell.

 _Bella._

Everything flies at me at once—the lockers, Bella's emotionless face, her tears and her eyes and "have you _ever_ done anything for anyone other than yourself" and "goodbye, Edward". The panic attack. The ceiling of the boys' bathroom and Emmett's terrified face leaning over me right before I black out into the seizure.

My body is making demands—my throat is dry, and I'm starving, and I have to piss something awful; the pain is urging me to find codeine or Percocet, or a shot of whiskey from the bottle buried in my closet—

But I don't fucking care … about any of it.

All I want to do is not feel and not think. I want to sleep—permanently, if I can manage it. But all I can do right now is roll over and try to pass back out, but I can't even have that. The tears come instead, and I weep until I don't know who I am anymore.

I don't think I ever _did_ know.

* * *

A/N: I hope some of you are a little less angry at these two. There's two sides to every story—Bella's got good reasons for her feelings and Edward is clueless and heartbroken. I'll be eager for your thoughts! Next chapter on March 7.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

" **I wanted to punch him and understand him at the same time."  
― Shannon A. Thompson, Take Me Tomorrow**

 **Bella**

He didn't come to school on Friday. I didn't want to either, but not going would have just made it worse when I had to go again on Monday, and I really don't need to hear the whispers of, "Bella spent the day at home crying because Edward dumped her," in addition to everything else being said about me right now.

Friday is a haze of flying rumors, and before I know it, it's time to crawl out of bed for school on Monday. Angela and The Gothlet both called over the weekend, but I let them go to voicemail, then texted that I was okay.

I'm _far_ from okay, but talking isn't gonna fix that.

I think I'm prepared to see him in homeroom. I've been steeling myself all morning for that look of pain in his eyes, for the pleading I saw there the last time we talked.

When he finally walks in, he looks better and worse than he did on Thursday. Although his arm is still in a sling, his fingers look less swollen, and they're more green and yellow than purple. He's no longer hunched like he's in pain, but he looks even paler than usual.

And his eyes … are … dead. It's like he's not even there at all—his gaze is dull and flat.

I was ready to resist whatever look he gave me—to withstand the gale roiling in the depths of those green eyes—but not … this. What the fuck _is_ this? What looks like calm to everyone else is scaring the hell out of me because I've never seen him like this before. Whether it's a spark of mischief or a flare of charm, Edward's eyes are his most expressive feature, but there's … nothing.

But inside me, there's everything.

My emotions spiral out of control, and the need to comfort and slap and console and rage all flare at once, forcing the tears from my eyes, and _why_ the fuck do I even care how he looks this morning? I shouldn't be looking anyway.

It's over, and I need to figure out how to let him go. I've said the words, and it makes sense in my head, but it feels like my heart didn't hear them and doesn't understand. Even though the pain of his deception is still slowly gutting me, my heart just doesn't get it. _Goddammit._

He doesn't say a word to anyone, and although I scold myself for looking, I can't help but notice the slump in his posture and the slowness of his movements. He looks defeated … and he's not hiding it. At least, one of us got the point I was trying to make on Thursday.

I manage to focus during government, mostly because Edward's not there, but English starts with a bang.

As I'm settling my books, Edward trudges in with Bitch Face happily trailing behind him like a puppy with a new toy. And she's carrying his books.

"Mr. Jefferson? Can I sit next to Edward? I'm his helper since he broke his hand."

Are.

You.

 _Fucking._

Kidding.

Me?

A kaleidoscope of emotions flares in me, and I grip the sides of the desk as my nostrils flare. _Say something, Edward. Tell the bitch to fuck off and ask someone else to help you._

But Edward says nothing as Bitch Face fusses over him, shooing Tyler out of his seat so she can sit right next to him, arranging his books and touching him every chance she gets.

Mother _fucker_! Anger and hurt are engaged in a death match for the top spot in my head, with jealousy bringing up the rear. _Why_ her? _Why not Jasper? Why not_ anyone else _in the goddamn world—is he_ trying _to hurt me?_

But as I look at him, I have to admit that it doesn't really look like he's trying to do anything. He's listless, not responding to any of Bitch Face's pawing, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

The same thing happens in calculus, and I grit my teeth through it, knowing this is going to be the rest of my fucking day. But biology is next— _holy fuck, he's my partner, and this will be the first day we're both there … if he shows_.

Suddenly, I'm nervous. _Will he try to talk to me? How are we going to be partners when I can't help but cry every time he looks at me? Am I going to help him with the stuff he can't do because of his hand?_

I fret through the entire class, finally deciding that I can be an adult and put aside my feelings to continue working with him. Or, at least, I can try.

I get to biology first, opening and closing my book a half dozen times on the lab bench—I'm that keyed up.

 _He's going to look at me. And whether his eyes show me nothing or everything, I am_ not _gonna cry_. _I can do this._

But he doesn't look at me.

When he comes into the classroom, _he's_ the one following Bitch Face like a puppy, and they go right up to Mr. Banner.

"Mr. Banner? Can I be Edward's lab partner? I've been helping him since he broke his hand, and it really would make things easier."

She bats her eyelashes at him and uses that ridiculously sweet high-pitched voice of hers, and I want to run to the sink at the back of the room and vomit profusely.

"Is that true, Edward?"

"Yeah, it probably would be easier."

His response is quiet and devoid of emotion, and it's the first time I've heard him speak today. And it breaks my heart into a million pieces all over again.

 _He doesn't want to sit with me—but last week he told me he still loved me? What a fucking coward! Can't he even face me?_

I'm confused and stunned and—

"Bella?"

Mr. Banner is right in front of me, and Edward and Bitch Face are beside him. Edward is staring at his shoes, but Bitch Face is sneering at me.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you minded switching lab partners so Lauren can help Edward."

"Uh, no. I guess," I stammer, and Bitch Face's grin widens.

"Thanks, Bella. Jessica? Why don't you come here and sit with Bella, and Edward and Lauren can go back there."

I stare at Edward, daring him to meet my eyes with every thought in my head, but he just shuffles along behind Bitch Face as my anger threatens to explode.

And suddenly, Bubble Butt plops down next to me with a giggle, and I finally process the last thing Mr. Banner said.

Fucking _great_.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

By the time biology's over, I'm a fucking mess, and I escape to the bathroom to allow myself a few tears. I don't know if I'm upset because of things Edward did or things he didn't do, but I'm too drained to try to figure it out, and I just need a good cry.

I'm late for lunch by the time I put myself back together. _Brilliant._

I bolt straight into the serving line, my back to the tables as I grab a salad and iced tea I'll have to force down so I'm not lightheaded for the rest of the afternoon. Our table isn't far into the room, so I make it all the way there and lay my items at an empty seat before my eyes unerringly find the only mass of copper hair in the room.

And I stop breathing.

I don't know where I expected him to be, but at the end of the popular table between Bitch Face and Tyler was definitely _not_ it. It's as if we never happened. He's right back where he used to be, as if he was sowing his wild oats on the wrong side of the tracks and now he's back where he belongs.

Bitch Face opens his Coke for him, and when she picks up his fork and knife to cut God-knows-what on his tray, I turn my head in disgust.

"I can't sit here," I mutter as tears threaten, and I suddenly notice everyone at our table is staring at me.

"Here, Bella, sit here," Ang says, hopping up and moving to where I am so I can sit in her seat with my back to the rest of the room.

Once we're seated, the silence is awkward. Everyone's heard the rumors, and Ang and The Gothlet know a little bit more, but today is the first day there's proof—Edward's over there with Bitch Face trying to spoon-feed him, and I'm sitting here in misery.

"Bella? What the fuck happened? I heard—"

The Gothlet's clothesline to Jasper's chest cuts him off, but as I look around the table, the faces looking back at me hold nothing but concern. These are my friends, and I want them to know the truth—as much as I can tell them, anyway.

"It's all right, Jasper. Edward and I aren't a couple anymore."

"I heard you were … together, and then he dumped you," Jasper growls, shooting an angry glare in Edward's direction. "But I don't understand. If sleeping with you was what he wanted, and he was getting that—"

"Jasper!" The Gothlet says sharply, but it doesn't hurt me because no matter what anyone says, it's not true.

"Yeah, I've heard I'm a lousy lay. But Edward didn't dump me; I dumped him, so that really has nothing to do with it."

An audible gasp echoes around the table, but The Gothlet recovers quickly.

"That _bastard_! What the fuck did he do? Did he cheat on you? I swear I'll bring you his fucking balls in a jar!"

Every male at the table suddenly shifts position—guys always seem to be able to tell when the threat to someone's family jewels is legitimate.

"No, he didn't cheat on me," I say, but it's getting harder to speak as the tears tighten my throat. "He … he lied to me. He only wanted one thing, and … and I found out about it, so I dumped him. He lied to me from the very beginning, and I fell for it, and I … I gave him everything."

It's not the _one thing_ they're thinking, but it's close enough to the truth, and it hurts just as much, if not more.

"Oh, Bella," Ang says, and I'm cocooned in hers and The Gothlet's arms.

"No fucking way," Jasper growls. "He'd never do that to anyone."

Jasper's eyes are hard, and he looks a little pale. He and Edward are good friends, and he's trying to piece this together, to see some reason in it.

"But he did," I say simply. "I wish I would have listened to you, Alice. There was no honest reason for a guy like him to be interested in a girl like me."

"That's bullshit!" Jasper all but yells. "You're pretty and sweet and funny—there's no reason any guy wouldn't be interested in you. And I just can't believe Edward would use you like that for all this time. Every time he talked about you, he seemed like he really cared for you."

"I don't think you know him as well as you think you do," I say as a few more tears roll down my cheeks.

Jasper's eyes widen in surprise, but he's not ready to give up yet. "Are you gonna tell everyone you're the one who broke up with him?"

"Do you think anyone would believe me?"

"Some would."

"No, I just want everyone to stop talking about this as soon as possible, and the easiest way to make that happen is to say nothing. It doesn't matter how it happened; the end result is we're not together anymore.

"Can we talk about something else now?" I ask, my chin quivering as I try to hold back more tears.

Jasper shakes his head and huffs in frustration, but he drops it, and so does everyone else. I have a feeling he has a few words for Edward, and the thought almost makes me smile.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I may have decided I want to talk about something else, but it seems no one else in this damn school does because the whispers and a few catcalls from brave sophomore boys follow me to my locker and on to study hall.

Where Edward will be.

Surrounded by all the asshole jock boys.

 _It's none of your concern. Write him off,_ I tell myself, but I can't help but listen as they all strut into the room.

Mike turns to Edward the moment Edward reaches his desk.

"So, the sex was _that_ bad?" he asks, chuckling.

"I'm not having this conversation," Edward states as he slides into his seat.

"Well, why the hell else would you break up with her?" It's Austin's turn this time, and I shiver, remembering the vile words he whispered in my ear.

"I didn't break up with her. She broke up with me," Edward answers, and his admission and the quaver in his voice make me feel … something, and although it's not a bad feeling, it's muted compared to the others.

"Bullshit! She'd be nuts to break up with you! A girl like her?" Tyler says.

"Unless you're the one who sucks at it, and she's looking for better," Austin says, getting a laugh from the rest of them.

"Look, we're not together anymore. Does it matter how it happened? That's between me and her, and not the rest of you nosy assholes. Believe what you want. I'm done talking about it."

"You're really done with her then?" Austin asks, and even in his subdued state, Edward catches the implication and sits up a little straighter, eyeing Austin suspiciously.

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"Nothin'. Just making sure I wouldn't be stepping on your toes if I take my turn."

"Your tur—She'd never go out with you. Leave her the fuck alone!" Edward snarls, and although my stomach is churning from Austin's words, Edward's defense of me soothes … something. It's the first time I've seen him react to anything today.

"Oh! Temper, temper, Eddie! She's fair game now, and I think I have a shot with her. I can be _quite_ persuasive," Austin answers as Mike and Tyler laugh and slap him on the back.

 _Oh really, jackass? I'd rather hang by my tits from a flagpole than let you lay a hand on me!_

Rage and humiliation roar through me, and I know my face is bright red as I try to contain my revulsion at being talked about like some brainless whore. And then I feel his eyes on me. It's the first time he's sought me out today, but I don't dare look up because I know what I'm feeling will be all over my face. It all swirls inside me: anger, hurt, sadness, disgust, fear, confusion and I can't let him see it all there because it'll look like a way in when there's nothing he can say or do to change things.

So I close my eyes and hold my breath until I can feel that his eyes are no longer on me, and then I lay my head on my desk for the rest of the period.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

His eyes don't seek me out again. It's as if I don't exist, or he doesn't. Bitch Face continues to help him every chance she gets, which nearly makes me a shoe-in for top shareholder of Pepto Bismol, but once he stops wearing the sling, he kicks Nurse Ratched to the curb and keeps to himself.

My emotional state is a carousel ride—hurt, anger, and sorrow whirl around and around every time I see him, but at least I've got the tears under control. Mostly.

But the worst part is I can't stop myself from thinking about him like I did before—the habits that I formed when he was my everything. Every morning, I watch him in homeroom, looking for his tells that he's tired or stressed, determining his mood from the way he drops his books on his desk and his posture in his chair.

I watch how he interacts with the populars—enough to fool them into thinking he's with them again, but his heart's not in it, and he's nowhere to be found when Mike and Austin are doing what they do best. But mostly, he's alone. He disappears at lunch now, and Bitch Face's pout is almost enough to make me smile … but where is he and what is he doing?

And why in the holy mother of fuck do I care?

I know the answer to that. I know why my eyes find him in every classroom and in the hallways and as he walks across the parking lot to Emmett's car. Even though it fucking hurts and the carousel whirls on and on, I can't make it stop, can't break out of the circle—because you don't stop loving someone just because they hurt you. I gave him my heart, and he still has it, whether he knows it or not, and I'm just going to have to learn to live without it.

Will I always feel this way? They say time heals all wounds, but maybe it just allows you to become accustomed to your new anatomy—to the absence of the part that made you whole.

The loud scrape of chair legs on the floor brings me back to reality, and I follow the sound and the turning of heads to see a shock of copper hair leave the room in a blur.

My heart stops.

I can't go to him—not now because we haven't spoken in more than three weeks, and I don't know how he'll react. I don't want to be responsible for him having a seizure at school—that'll only make things worse for both of us.

"Mr. Banner? I think Edward isn't feeling well. Can I go—"

"No!" I'm on my feet, and I know I look like a complete and total idiot, but I can't just stand by and watch a disaster unfold. Edward needs help, and I have to put that above everything. "Mr. Banner, I need to do it," I say urgently, and this time, all it takes is the look I give him for him to pale and nod his head.

Bitch Face is incredulous. "But—"

"It's none of your concern, Lauren. Bella will take care of it."

I'm out of the room before Bitch Face can peel her jaw off the ground, but now I don't know what to do, and the clock is running.

Emmett!

I tear down the hall, barely pausing to knock before bursting into Mr. Jefferson's classroom, but as everything stops and everyone stares, I make a concerted effort to slow down and rein in my panic.

"Mr. Jefferson, Mrs. Cope sent me to get Emmett Cullen. Can he be excused?"

"Of course, Bella."

My eyes are on Emmett before Mr. Jefferson is done speaking, and although I'm doing my best to look "normal", Emmett's eyes widen, and he's out of his seat and escorting me out the door before I can catch my breath.

"What happened?" Emmett asks as we dash up the hall, but I'm so focused on getting us there that I don't respond. "Bella!" he barks, grabbing my arm. "Did he have a seizure?"

"No. At least, not yet. He ran out of biology, and I know where he is, but I didn't want to make things worse—"

"Fuck!" Emmett swears as we get near the end of the hall, and I slow down. We're close enough to hear Edward hyperventilating around the corner, but Emmett stops and grabs both my arms. "Thank you, Bella. Thank you so much!"

I nod and so does he, and it's not until after he's gone that I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks.

I should go back to class, but I'm in no shape to do it, so I slowly walk forward until I can hear them.

"Breathe, Edward. You've got to settle down or you're gonna have it right here."

A gasping breath. "I know." Another. "Can't breathe."

"You have to. Relax one muscle at a time like the doc taught you. You have to focus. Mom's on the way. Just hang on a little longer, okay?"

It takes a few minutes, but Edward's gasps resolve to hitching breaths.

"How did you—"

"Bella. She came and got me after you ran out of the room."

"Christ! She's still protecting me, even after what I did to her."

"She is."

"Fuck, Em! I don't deserve it! What I deserve is for her to tell the whole fucking school everything, but I know now that she never will. What the hell is happening to me? I'm so … angry and messed up and so fucking afraid all the time—"

His words cut off on a sob, and I have to back away so my own doesn't make them aware of my presence. I feel … hollow. Empty and worn out and used up, and I don't know what to believe or what to feel anymore. I just want everything to stop or to go back but not forward.

Forward seems to hold nothing but pain … for both of us.

* * *

A/N: Now, don't everybody flay Edward yet. There's two sides to every story and teenage boys aren't exactly perceptive. How do we feel about Bella's lie, and her handling of Edward in trouble? See you in two weeks!


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

 **"The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off."  
— Gloria Steinem**

 **Edward**

The last few weeks have been a blur. And I don't mean that in the "Wow! They flew by!" sense; I mean, I don't really remember much that happened, and I truly couldn't give a fuck less.

It's all been a haze of pain and medication—I was woken by Dad the day after my seizure in the boy's bathroom at school and dragged to my neuro, with a psych consult as an extra special bonus prize. My new best friends are Zoloft and Valium—it seems I've had too many panic-induced seizures, and it's time for the big guns.

And they definitely _are_ big—it's like a super-mega Xanax high twenty-four/seven—my non-casted hand shakes when I don't keep it in a fist, and I couldn't walk in a straight line if my life depended on it. And sometimes, I wish it _did_ because I just don't want to do any of this shit anymore.

I haven't had a seizure in almost three weeks, but that's because I haven't felt like I'm alive in all that time, except for the pain. Neither of my new best friends will soothe the ache in my chest, no matter how much I beg and plead with them. That fucking ache is truly my new best friend, and nothing and no one can take it away from me.

I can't look at her. Maybe that makes me a coward and an ass, but every time I do, my new best friend gives me a tight squeeze that chokes the breath out of me, and I end up in the bathroom until the spots fade from my eyes and I can feel my knees again. So I don't look anymore.

I try not to engage with anyone, and I've been doing okay with that plan except for Jasper.

The day after I came back to school, he came at me like some sort of avenging angel, startling me out of my haze that was still thick with codeine on top of all the other damn drugs.

"What the fuck, Edward? You cozied up to Bella just so you could fuck her?"

I stand there with my mouth open, on the verge of panic despite the truckload of meds working to the contrary. I have no words to say, and even if I did, the ache has intensified so much that I wouldn't be able to utter them anyway. I don't give a rat's ass what anyone in this hellhole thinks, but Jasper …

"Well?"

"It's not that simple," I stammer.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'It's not that simple'? Either you made her believe you liked her so you could screw her, or you didn't. How much simpler can it get than that?"

His glare is deep and penetrating, trying to find what I can't let him see, willing me to give him some sort of explanation that makes sense, an explanation that'll allow us to still be friends.

I know what I have to do, but I'm so fucking angry, angry at the person this disease has made me become and the things it has cost me.

 _Goodbye, Jasper._

"So what if I did? It's none of your goddamn business anyway."

Jasper flinches as if I've struck him, the anger in his eyes morphing to disappointment and, worst of all, hurt. "I thought you really cared about her. Fuck, you put on such a good show you even fooled me. I think Bella was right—I don't know you as well as I thought I did. See ya around, Edward."

My chest squeezes, but it gets lost in the pain of losing Bella, and I just feel … sadness. Except for my family, I'm alone now, and I have no intention of trying to change that anytime soon.

So I go through my days, utterly miserable and not giving a fuck about anything. I need help carrying shit and writing because of my fucking broken hand, and Lauren is the only one who's offered to help me. I'm still pissed at her for that slap, but I have no desire to talk to anyone else, and she just natters on without requiring any responses from me. _Perfect._

I sit at the popular table at lunch for the first few days, but the conversation about who Mike and the boys are gonna fuck with next disgusts me, and he keeps trying to pull me into it. I can't go back to that, so I start having lunch in the nurse's office. I have to take meds then anyway, and she usually leaves for her own lunch after she's given me my Valium, so I've been sticking around there and having some fucking quiet time.

I try not to think too much. The ache is always there, but thinking leads to anger and sadness and to so much more fucking pain and also to thoughts I shouldn't think. Like whether Bella would come and cry at my funeral.

So I don't think.

I don't know what comes next—all I really know is I can't live without her so I'm just existing until something changes.

And of course, that change is not for the better.

I'm in biology when it happens. It's Wednesday, the day before the three-week anniversary of my seizure in the boy's bathroom after Bella said goodbye to me.

I'm sitting there, staring at the back of Bella's head—because I can do that without freaking out—and then suddenly, my neck jerks so hard that I'm nearly thrown out of my chair.

 _No. Not here. Not again!_

I fly from the room as an icy spike of fear shoots down my spine and my breathing accelerates.

 _It's okay. It's just a warning_ , I think, trying to calm myself, but I know if I panic, it could happen at any moment, and that brings me that much closer to panicking.

My feet carry me to the north entrance alcove where Bella found me last time, and I gasp—

 _Bella's not coming._

No one is coming, and I'm gonna have the seizure right here if I don't find a way to help myself.

 _Think! What do I need to do?_

I'm hyperventilating, and it's hard to think about anything other than the seizure that's about to happen. My head feels fuzzy, and I just want to curl up as tightly as I can and hope it goes away.

My shoulder jerks forward roughly, and it brings me back to the here and now.

 _My phone._

I shimmy it out of my pocket and collapse onto the stairs, but my good hand is shaking so badly I don't know how I'm going to do this.

Suddenly, my left arm jerks, and I watch as my phone skitters across the floor, stopping just before the doors. It's only feet from where I'm sitting, but it might as well be ten miles.

And then there's no oxygen.

I gasp for air as panic roars through me like a beast unleashed, clawing at my stomach, freezing my lungs, flooding my mind with fear.

I clutch at my stomach, unable to focus on anything other than my next attempt at inhaling.

 _Oh, God, the seizure's coming. I can't—_

"Edward!"

I open my eyes and Emmett's here, pulling me into his arms.

"Breathe, Edward. You've got to settle down or you're gonna have it right here."

A gasping breath. "I know." Another. "Can't breathe."

"You have to. Relax one muscle at a time like the doc taught you. You have to focus. Mom's on the way—just hang on a little longer, okay?"

 _Mom's on the way. Mom's on the way._

I try my best to ignore everything but the fingers of my left hand, willing them to relax and uncurl from the fist clenched over my stomach. My wrist is next, then my elbow, and as I slowly navigate my body, the block in my chest unfreezes, and I slump against Emmett.

He appeared out of nowhere … _how did he get here?_

"How did you—"

"Bella. She came and got me after you ran out of the room."

The ache does its best to overwhelm me, and with it comes a hefty dose of guilt and remorse for not realizing what a good person she is from the start.

"Christ! She's still protecting me, even after what I did to her."

"She is."

"Fuck, Em! I don't deserve it! What I deserve is for her to tell the whole fucking school everything, but I know now that she never will. What the hell is happening to me? I'm so … angry and messed up and so fucking afraid all the time—"

The tears come, and there's nothing I can do to stop them—nothing makes sense anymore and everything I cared about is in ruins. I'm lost, and I don't know that I care enough to try to find myself again.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

When I wake up late that night and piece the day together, it looks slightly different than it did in my earlier haze of panic. Bella went and got Emmett. I know she did it because I was in trouble, but I can't help but believe it was something … more. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, but maybe … maybe if I can locate my balls and keep my shit together for long enough to look at her, I'll see something different. Maybe there'll be love there again instead of the despair that sent me running the last time I dared to look. Maybe.

The next morning, anger and sorrow don't ride with me on the way to school. I have a new companion—hope. It eases the ache in my chest and makes it a little easier to breathe. It even makes my vicious post-seizure headache seem bearable.

It carries me to the door of homeroom, tantalizing me with visions of warm brown eyes and maybe even a little bit of a smile. My heart thumps rapidly in my chest, but for the first time in a long time, it's not from panic. It's anticipation.

Our eyes meet, and her brow furrows, as if she's confused. She looks me up and down, assessing me, then she gives me one more brief moment of eye contact before she looks away.

And I nearly collapse to the floor because her gaze was the only thing holding me up.

Her eyes showed no emotion—carefully, oh so carefully, she made sure I was alive and then she moved on.

 _Has she moved on?_

Tyler bumps me as he walks past, and I hobble to my seat, stunned that no one else is reacting to the gaping hole in my chest. It takes all I have not to moan as the ache squeezes until I almost writhe with it, grasping on to the desk as my breath is forced from me.

Hope is long gone—frozen and shattered by her cold stare—the ache is all that's left. How can she look like she's feeling nothing when I'm feeling everything? The wound is just as raw as it ever was, compounded by the immense weight of guilt. And it's all just too much. It's like I've blown a fuse or something because instead of everything I'm feeling careening into panic, I just shut down. I don't want to feel anymore—it hurts too damn much.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

"Come on, Ed. You haven't done anything outside the house in weeks. I'm going, and I don't have a girlfriend. I'm just gonna hang with the guys and shoot the shit."

"She'll be there."

"So fucking what? She's there at school every day. You can't just sit in your room all the time and mope. It's not healthy."

I roll over to face him, frowning at me from the doorway of my room in his favorite Nike shirt and jeans.

"Maybe she'll talk to you."

" _Don't_ , Emmett," I bark, glaring at him. Bella hasn't even so much as looked at me since the day after my last seizure, and that was over a week ago. I'm not gonna get my hopes up again. I honestly don't feel like I have any anymore.

"All right, all right! But come, okay? Mom sent me up here to get you to go, so you know she's not gonna give you a moment's peace tonight if you stay. She'll drag you downstairs and try to play Scrabble with you or some shit."

Emmett does have a point—Mom has been regularly hauling me out of my room and trying to get me to engage in … anything. At least at the dance, I can disappear and be left alone if I want to.

"If I agree to go, will you stop trying to cheer me up?"

"Except when Mom or Dad make me," he answers, but I can still see the worry in his eyes. I'm doing everything that's expected of me, but when I'm not doing that, I'm here, lying on my bed. Asleep, if at all possible. Sleeping is the only way to escape how miserable I feel. I just don't care about anything anymore.

"Fine, I'll go."

"That's the spirit!" Em answers, and the goofy grin on his face almost makes me smile.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I walk into the caf with Emmett, and this dance is the same as all the others. Girls bouncing to the beat in the middle of the room while the guys hang out in the dark corners, shooting the shit, or doing their best to hide whatever they're drinking or smoking, until a slow song comes on and girlfriends materialize beside them to drag them out to dance.

 _What the fuck am I doing here?_

Jasper and I haven't spoken since I led him to believe I used Bella for sex, and I'm still on the fringe of things with Mike, Tyler, and Austin. I don't want to be a part of their bullshit anymore, but I don't fit in anywhere else, considering I've bullied most of the rest of the guys in one way or another.

I sigh and follow Emmett to where the football team is hanging out, smiling and nodding in all the right places, but I'm not really there. I stand with my back to the dance floor, not allowing myself to scan the room for her or any of her friends. I'm only here as a way to pass time until Em says we can leave; if I keep my back to the dancing couples, I can forget that some people here are feeling the things I felt the last time I was here. That love is happening in this room and first kisses and— _fuck_! I tuck the memories carefully away before they can play behind my eyes and run my hand through my hair.

"Let me do that."

And suddenly, there are fingers in my hair that aren't mine, and I whip around to find myself face to face with Lauren. She reaches up to paw me again, but I grab her hand with my good one and force it back down.

"Ooo, we can hold hands instead," she says, gripping my fingers and grinning lazily. _I wonder how many beers she's had._

"What the fuck do you want, Lauren?" I ask, tearing my hand out of hers.

"You, silly," she answers, touching the tip of my nose. "I've always wanted you, and now that Bella is out of the way …"

She tries to put her arms around me, and I elbow her away, but then I freeze. Something's not right about what she just said. She didn't say, "now that you dumped Bella" or "now that Bella broke up with you." She said Bella was "out of the way". As if …

 _As if maybe she had something to do with it._

I plaster a smile on my face and touch her arm, as much as it repulses me to do so. "She _is_ out of our way, isn't she?"

"Yeah," she purrs, reaching for my hair again, and this time, I let her. "What did you need from her anyway? There's nothing she has that _I_ couldn't give you."

 _She's read the note._

"Lauren, did … did you give that note to Bella?"

Her eyes widen—even in her drunken state, she knows she fucked up.

"You did, didn't you?" I ask, tightening my grip on her, but she doesn't have to answer because her eyes are telling me everything I need to know.

 _Oh, my God._

 _Lauren threw that note in Bella's face. She had to have, on the day Bella dragged me out into the woods—_

 _And all this time, I've been letting Lauren help me—_

"You bitch!" I yell, shoving her away from me. She bumps into one of the senior boys, but manages to stay on her feet, and I wish I'd shoved her harder. Rage surges through me, and I charge up to her, and the only reason my fist doesn't connect with the side of her head is because Emmett grabs my arms from behind.

"You ruined _everything_!" I scream, but I can't get any closer to her—Em's arms are like a vice grip.

"She's not good enough for you," Lauren sneers. "She's a fucking whore who hangs out with the losers and misfits. I've loved you all this time, but she just … appeared and took you away from me!"

"I was never yours, Lauren! Never was, never will be, and you better stay the _fuck_ away from me, or I swear I'll knock your fucking teeth in! Do you hear me?" I roar, and for once, she actually looks scared, as if she believes me.

She gasps and runs toward the stairs, and I suddenly notice the crowd gathered around us.

"What the—"

Emmett loosens his grip in the confusion, and I pull forward, breaking my arms out of his grasp. I bolt from the caf and into the woods, my thoughts and emotions—my everything—spinning out of control.

 _Lauren made Bella break up with me. She was jealous of Bella, so she ruined our lives._

I'm so fucking angry I don't know what to do with myself, so I keep running until I hear rustling and voices. As I slow down, I realize my feet have brought me to the clearing where the guys usually drink.

 _Yes._

I burst out of the woods, startling Tyler and Mike, but they relax when they see it's only me.

"Hey Eddie, what's—"

I tear the bottle of vodka from Tyler's hand and tip it back, guzzling until my nose burns too much for me to breathe.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," Mike slurs with a smile on his face, and I tip the bottle back again, hoping the burn will obliterate the anger and the pain … and everything else.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

"Hey, Edward! Why don't you do another one?"

"Kayyy."

I reach for the bottle, but it won't stop moving long enough for me to grab it. I take three swipes at it before Mike picks it up and puts it in my hand.

"Th-there ya go! Take a nice l-l-long one like that last one."

Mike helps me lift the bottle to my mouth, and I take two long pulls. The burn is gone—this shit tastes like water. I tip my head back a little too far and everything starts to spin. I reach out blindly and grab Mike's arm as I struggle to drop my chin—my head feels so damn heavy.

I start to fall backward, but my head and shoulders hit something, and I slump against it, drowsy. I feel … numb. The ache in my chest is gone, and I can breathe again— _what was I so upset about? Oh, yeah, Lauren was a bitch or … or something._

"Where's Bel-l-l-la?"

"Oh! She's waiting for you, over by that tree. But have another drink before you go—for the road."

"Kayyy."

Tyler's laughing, and Mike falls against him, but I don't care. I have to get to Bella. I tip the bottle back, but suddenly, there's more dripping from the side of my face and on my shirt than in my mouth, and Mike grabs the bottle back.

"He's so fucked, he can't even drink it himself anymore. Go find Bella, Edward! We'll wait here."

I squint at the tree Mike pointed to, but I can't see her. Maybe I'll be able to when I get closer? I sit up straight but everything spins, and I end up on my side on the ground. _How the fuck did I get here?_

More laughter, but I gather my legs under me so I'm on all fours. The ground tilts and whirls, but I have to get to Bella, so I put my foot on the unsteady earth and push up until I'm standing. I stagger forward, but something slams into my shoulder, and there's a dull pain on the side of my head.

"Bel-l-l-a-a?"

"He thinks the fucking tree's Bella," Mike snickers, but it makes no sense to me— _Bella's not a tree!_ "Wrong way, Edward! Turn around!"

I slide off … whatever that was, and I'm walking again, I think, but suddenly, my cheek is cold and wet and the world is sideways.

"Ow-w-w," I murmur because my ankle and my head hurt, and I can't figure out how I got here.

Suddenly, Emmett pops out of the ground, and fuck! He looks angry! My ass is grass when he looks at me like that!

"Is Edward here?"

"Yeah, he's her-r-r-e," Mike slurs, but he barely gets the words out before he's busting up laughing.

 _That's funny!_

I try to laugh, but it makes my stomach feel bad, so I stop.

 _There's Emmett!_

"Holy fuck! How much has he had?"

"I dunno. A bottl-l-l-le of v-v-vodka?" Mike says, still laughing. "He—he kept wanting to find Bel-l-la, but he needed a few for the road!"

Emmett disappears, and then he and Mike look like they're dancing, but it's making me dizzy, so I close my eyes.

"You motherfucker! You kept making him drink, didn't you?"

"He r-r-ran into a f-f-fucking tree—owww!"

"Get the fuck out of here, and take that asshole with you before I _really_ get angry!" Emmett roars, and I hear lots of noise.

"Edward? Oh shit, what did you do? Edward?"

I try to lift my eyelids but they're so heavy.

"Ow-w-w-w!" I swipe at my face, and Emmett swears again.

"You're bleeding.

"Edward. Edward! Can you stand?"

"S-s-sleep."

"No, you can't sleep now. We have to get out of here. Come on, let me help—"

"Fuck!" My ankle throbs, and then my ass hurts.

"Goddammit!"

 _So fucking tired. What …_

* * *

A/N: So Edward didn't know of Lauren's involvement with the note. So many of you thought he did, which would make him a real dick for letting Lauren help him. This Edward is a lot of things, but intentionally nasty to the girl he loves isn't one of them. Speaking of things he is, right now he's being an idiot, no? See you in two weeks!


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

" **Telling the truth is less demanding than telling a lie."  
― Eraldo Banovac**

 **Edward**

"Edward. Edward!"

I moan as Emmett shakes me, and although I know he's stopped, I still feel like I'm moving.

 _Oh, my God, I've never felt this bad in my entire life._

Every inch of my body aches, my throat feels like it's on fire, and my head is splitting.

"Edward!"

"Yeah! Fuck!" I mumble, trying not to move even the slightest bit.

"We have about sixty seconds until Dad gets here, so listen closely, and don't fuck this up. It's Sunday morning. You and I spent the night at Evan's on Friday, and then you had a seizure when we got home."

"But—"

"No buts! I'll explain later; just do as I say."

I raise one aching eyelid and find Emmett glaring down at me. My head hurts too much to form a coherent thought about anything, and all I want right now is to go back to sleep and hope I wake up feeling better. So I'll do as he says. Emmett always has my ass, but from the look on his face, he's gonna have my ass again later today.

 _What the fuck did I do?_

Just then, Dad bustles in.

"Good morning, son. How are you feeling?"

 _Christ! Does he have to scream?_

"Ohh," I moan, gingerly touching my head.

"Sorry," Dad says, cutting the volume a little.

I start the process of rolling to my side, and immediately realize I really have to piss. At this moment, I think I would rather die than try to get out of this bed, but if I piss myself, I'll still have to get up, and it'll be even more work. _Fuck._

"I need to—"

"Here, let me help you," Dad says as he takes my arm and helps me sit up, and suddenly, everything is spinning and then—

"Edward. Edward!"

"Wha-huh?" I mumble. I'm lying down again, and Dad is leaning over me.

"You just went orthostatic on me."

"What?"

"You tried to stand up and your blood pressure dropped, so you passed out."

Dad pinches the skin on my arm and stares at the spot. "Ouch! What the—"

"Have you been drinking enough?"

 _Oh fuck, that's what I did._

Images from Friday night flicker through my head, but they're hazy and disjointed—Lauren's confession, oh _fuck_ , downing vodka like it was water, searching for Bella and falling down? My stomach turns at the mere thought of the word "vodka", and I nearly gag.

"Edward?"

I snap back to the present. "I've been trying to."

I hear a huff from across the room, and I swear I can actually hear Emmett's eyes rolling. I really didn't mean that to be a joke—obviously Dad doesn't know what I did on Friday night, and I had to say something.

"Emmett? Why don't you give us a few minutes?"

My brother nods at Dad, and when Dad looks away, he narrows his eyes at me—a reminder to stick to the story.

Dad's smile has turned decidedly doctor. "I'll be right back, Edward."

I still have to piss, but while I'm trying to decide how to solve that problem without passing out or christening my sheets, Dad returns with his arms full of medical supplies. _Oh hell, this isn't gonna be good._

The first thing he produces is a urinal, and I'm so freaking happy I almost cheer out loud … until I realize what he really wants is a look at my piss.

"You're severely dehydrated, Edward. You're going to need to drink a lot of water today—"

I groan out loud before he can even finish his sentence. The thought of drinking _anything_ right now is making me queasy, and my stomach muscles feel like I did a few hundred crunches.

"Dad, I don't think I can—"

"Nauseous?"

"Yeah, I—"

"I thought you'd say that, but we can't wait to hydrate you until you're feeling better. I'd really like to give you an IV line for a few hours. If we don't do it here, we may need to go to the ER—"

"All right, whatever," I say, resigning myself to my fate. _That's what all the other stuff he brought is for._

He hooks me up and hangs the line from my headboard.

"That's a little lower than I'd like to hang it—I don't know where your mother put the pole we used last time. Make sure you stay flat on your back until I find a better solution."

 _No worries, Dad, I don't think I could move if I tried._ "Okay."

I'm almost asleep when I feel the bottom of the bed dip.

"Fuck, dude. Dad stuck you?"

"Yeah. I don't wanna drink anything—"

"I'm not surprised," Emmett says, all lightness gone from his expression. "You had enough for the whole fucking football team on Friday night."

I've been trying not to think about anything I remember from Friday, and how shitty I feel at the moment has been a great help in distracting me, but the look on Emmett's face makes me think I owe him even more than I think I do. I owe it to him to go through this, even though I don't want to.

"I'm sorry, Emmett, I—"

"Do you even know what to be sorry for?" His hands curl into fists, and I notice that the knuckles on one are bruised. "Because I'd be amazed if you even remember half of it; you were that fucked up."

Shame washes over me like a warm tide. "You said we spent the night at Evan's. I, um … don't remember that at all."

"That's because it didn't happen," Emmett says, and he takes a second to stare at the ceiling. "When I finally found you, you were face down in the dirt, and Mike and Tyler were laughing their asses off at you."

 _Bella's waiting for you over by that tree._

The memories fly at me, and now that I'm sober, I understand what was going on. _Oh, God._

"Once I was drunk, they kept making me drink more. Mike even held the bottle for me when I was too fucked up to do it myself."

"That fucking asshole! I should have given him more than a black eye!"

"You punched him?"

"Damn right, I did! Fucker was drunk himself and had no idea how much he'd given you! He could have killed you!"

I close my eyes against the words and images assaulting me, my stomach rolling as I remember how I felt. If Mike had kept giving me vodka, I would have kept drinking it, and I'd probably be dead now.

"Emmett, I … I'm so glad you came and found me—"

"You … you passed out, and I had to carry you out of the woods and to the car. I didn't know what the fuck to do—I couldn't take you home like that or you'd be busted for sure. So I called Dad and told him we were sleeping out, but … you're the only one who did any sleeping."

"Oh, Christ, Em." I don't want to hear anymore. The only things I remember after lying on the ground and seeing Emmett are just a few flashes—the backseat of Emmett's car in the daylight, and sitting on the floor in our bathroom. _Jesus Christ, I blacked out for at least ten hours._

"I got some water and drove us out to that first logging road off 29, and I just sat there and prayed you'd keep breathing. You were breathing so slowly—I should have taken you to the hospital, but I didn't want you arrested for underage drinking. When you woke up, you started vomiting so we sat out in the woods for a while, and we went back and forth all night.

"In the morning, I brought you home when I knew Dad would already be gone for his shift and Mom would be at breakfast. I cleaned you up and put you to bed, but the myoclonics started as soon as you lay down, and the seizure came soon after.

"God _dam_ mit, Edward! You scared the hell out of me! You were so fucking confused you didn't even know it was me half the time! If you had stopped breathing out there, there would have been nothing I could have done. I didn't even think about it at the time, but I risked your life—you could have died!"

As Emmett gets everything off his chest, mine just feels heavier and heavier.

 _Holy._

 _Fucking._

 _Shit!_

I look Emmett in the eye, and I can't tell if he wants to hug me or punch me. I've never seen him look so … scared.

" _Jesus_ , Em! I'm so fucking sorry! I never meant—"

"What the hell did Lauren do to set you off like that—make you want to drink so much? I know she was talkin' shit about Bella …"

My heart sinks because I just don't have the energy to get angry again. I have to swallow hard before I can get the words to come out.

"Rosalie didn't give your note to Bella; she gave it to Lauren. Lauren is the one who told Bella I lied to her."

"Mother _fucker_! Rosalie never said anything about Lauren! She protected her—"

"Because they're friends, and Lauren thought if Bella was out of the way, she'd have a chance with me."

"Goddamn these motherfucking girls! They're so … evil! Guys don't do crafty, manipulative shit like this—"

I raise an eyebrow at him, thinking back on all the lies I've told.

"Well, most of the time, and not unless we have to! If I could dump Rosalie again, I would! I'd like to punch her right in the—"

"Yeah, I believe that's where you interrupted me with Lauren on Friday night," I say, smiling at him grimly.

"Okay, now that part makes sense. Then what the fuck happened? You ran out, and it took me forever to find you guys in the woods."

I close my eyes, and an echo of the anger and rage I was feeling surges through me. And the words tumble out of my mouth with no filter at all.

"I was so fucking angry! Lauren ruined everything, and if she hadn't done that—fuck! I might still be with Bella. It hurt so fucking bad! I just wanted to forget all of it—put an end to it. I'm so tired of hurting all the time! I ran and I ended up near where the guys usually drink, and I just … I drank until I couldn't feel anything anymore. And even then, it didn't feel like enough."

"Son of a bitch, Edward! Were you actually trying to—"

"No! No, I wasn't trying to, but it might not have been so bad if it happened," I admit, owning up to what I was feeling then and what I've felt off and on since Bella and I broke up.

Emmett goes very still, staring at my comforter for a full minute before lifting blazing eyes to mine. His words, however, are calm and quiet.

"I don't want to _ever_ hear you say that again. Do you understand me?"

I look at him, and I have no idea how to answer. I can never say it again, but that doesn't mean I won't be thinking it. I close my eyes and feel tears overflow the lids, and I can't open them again because I'm afraid of what I'll see on Emmett's face. His hand closes over mine.

"I'm worried about you, man. Really fucking worried. Maybe … maybe it _would_ be better if everyone knew your secret. If you just stopped lying and actually told people the truth when it happens—that would show Bella she's more important than everyone not knowing you have epilepsy … right?"

"I can't … do that, Emmett."

"Why not? Would it really be worse than things are now?"

Memories of when I was first diagnosed come flooding back, and with them, the crystal clear memory of the first lie I ever told regarding my condition. A lie I still haven't come clean about. Maybe it's time. Maybe telling someone the truth about _something_ will lift a little of this weight crushing my chest.

"Yes, I think it would. Do you remember when I was first diagnosed? Dad handled it pretty well because he's used to this kind of shit, but you and Mom? You tiptoed around me like I was gonna explode."

"No, we didn't—"

"Yes, you did. I saw it in your eyes every time you both looked at me. You were afraid. Afraid that you wouldn't know what to do, afraid of what could happen, afraid of _me_. I … I couldn't handle it. I know you couldn't help it but it made me feel like a freak and … and that's when the panic attacks started. I told Mom and Dad I was afraid of having more seizures, but … that wasn't all of it. That wasn't even most of it. It was the way you guys looked at me. It was like I could feel the charge in the air—everyone on alert for the next time I would fall down twitching. It was suffocating. It stole the air right out of my chest and made me gasp to get it back. I just … suffered through it until you guys stopped looking at me that way."

I know I've said way more than I should, but once I started, I just couldn't stop. It feels … good to get something off my chest, to lay down a weight I've been carrying for so long.

I look up at Emmett, and he's staring at me, his eyes glassy and wet. He's hurting and I know I've caused it, and suddenly, I feel like shit because I haven't really laid down this burden. I've given it to him.

"I'm sorry—"

"No! Goddammit, Edward, you will _not_ be sorry for anything! I'm the one who's sorry—fuck! I didn't know—"

"I didn't _want_ you to know—Mom either—because there's nothing you could do about it, and I knew that. We all just needed time to adjust—"

"What? So Mom and I were adjusting and you were having panic attacks because we were making you feel like a freak? _While_ you were dealing with your own fear of the seizures and everything else? Why the hell didn't you tell us? We could have done _some_ thing—"

"You were already doing enough, and I was … I didn't know what to do, so I just kept it to myself. That was the first lie I ever told in all of this."

A tear slips down Emmett's cheek, and I break a little more—I haven't seen Emmett cry since we were little.

"I'm sorry."

"God, Edward, please don't be sorry. _I'm_ sorry! And I'm so fucking angry, sometimes I don't know how I'm gonna keep it inside anymore. I feel so helpless! Like I'm on the fucking sidelines, and you're out there with the ball and no defensive line, getting sacked over and over. And all I can do is fucking watch. I can't protect you like a big brother should. Not from this."

"You _do_ protect me. You always have. I didn't realize just how much until the day I did this" — I raise my casted hand — "and you told me why you always cover for me. I never saw it that way, and I was an idiot."

"You're _not_ an idiot," Emmett says, sniffling. "God, what a fucking mess!"

And that brings my thoughts back to the reason for my confession. "But now you see why I can't tell everyone. The whole school will look at me like I'm ticking … all the time. Some will be scared, but most will be morbidly curious to see it happen, and … and everyone will look at me like I'm—like I'm less than human, just the way it was before—"

Emmett squeezes my forearm, I realize that I'm breathing fast, and my head is starting to spin.

"Edward. You're okay. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly." I close my eyes because it helps to settle my stomach, and I focus on breathing for a few minutes.

"Okay, so telling everyone isn't the right answer, but there's got to be one. You still love her, and she still loves you—"

"I don't think so, Em," I say as my throat gets tight. "She hasn't looked at me in weeks, and I … I fucking let _Lauren_ help me at school. I had no idea she was the one who gave Bella the note, but I'm sure Bella thinks I did it on purpose to hurt her—"

Emmett sighs heavily and shakes his head. "Girls. They're so damn complicated and … devious and — If they weren't the only way to get pussy, would we really even need them?"

I'm pretty sure he's joking, but then again, Emmett likes things simple. But I know I still need Bella, and it has absolutely nothing to do with her spectacular pussy.

"Why don't you go back to sleep for a while? You look exhausted," Em says, fist-bumping my knee. "We can talk more when you're not—"

"Fighting the hangover from hell?"

"Something like that. Just … promise you'll talk to me next time before you go off and do something so totally stupid?"

"I promise," I say, fighting my heavy eyelids.

"Good," Emmett responds, nodding as he leaves my room.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The IV helps more than I thought it would and, although I sleep the day away, by suppertime I no longer feel like roadkill, and I'm actually hungry. But I feel … low. The pain of losing Bella was sudden and agonizing, but the dull ache that clings to me is worse. I hurt her again without realizing it. Why the fuck did I let Lauren anywhere near me after Bella broke up with me? I _know_ why, and now it seems like the lamest fucking reason, but at the time … I just didn't care. I didn't care about anything—I was in so much pain, it was as if the world had stopped around me, and I just blindly did whatever I needed to, to get by. But the world didn't stop—only I did—and I hurt Bella even more by not fucking thinking about what I was doing.

And now I … I'm starting to realize she's really gone. She doesn't even look at me anymore, and I can't bear to look at her. How the hell do people date and break up and still see each other at school every day? Because it's killing me. The weight of loss on my chest makes it hard to move while the guilt of what I did to her still steals my breath.

I hate who I am. I hate all the lies, and I hate the things I've done to protect myself, the people I've wronged. I've lied so many times I don't even know what the truth is anymore.

What the fuck _is_ the truth anyway?

The truth is I'm a goddamn coward—too afraid to face the boy in the mirror. The boy with _epilepsy_.

Shame prickles at my skin the way it used to long ago when I was still trying to figure out what I did to deserve this.

What I did to deserve being forced to give up the only thing I was good at or ever really cared about—basketball.

What I did to deserve becoming a freak.

It took a long time until Mom and Emmett didn't walk on eggshells around me. They kept my secret for me, allowed me time, but it didn't take me long to realize that I couldn't go through with everyone I knew what I went through with them, just like I confessed to Emmett. After all I'd lost and how radically everything had changed, I just couldn't become Forks High's resident pariah too.

So I convinced them to perpetuate the lie. I took the heat from my coaches and the guys over basketball, even though it tore me up inside. I pushed Jasper away and deprived my dick and my heart of everything except the occasional meaningless release. And I told as many lies as I needed to—anything and everything to keep myself out of the spotlight.

And then I went a step further, and I became a bully. I was so obsessed with keeping myself in the dark that I started shining a light on others, the light of shame. The light I never wanted shone on myself, and that made guys like Mike like me. Bella laid bare the guilt I had buried for so long, and I know I can't go back to that, so … who am I now?

The truth is I don't want to be anybody if I can't be who I was with Bella. And I can't be that person without her. I just feel so … trapped. I can't tell everyone the truth because I'll have a fucking mental breakdown, but I can't think of any other way of proving to Bella that I love her.

 _Have you ever done anything for anyone other than yourself, Edward?_

And would telling everyone really prove anything to her? I would be doing it for her, but I don't know if she'd see it that way, or if it would even matter to her now.

And it's in this state of mind that Alice finds me on Wednesday after school. I've trudged through the week, avoiding Mike and his black eye and warning Lauren away with my glare, but other than that, I couldn't tell you what I did. Every day is the same without the brown eyes and quirky little smile that I never realized made them worth living until she was gone.

I'm late, shoving my shit into my bag when the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stand on end.

"I've waited for this. It's taken weeks, but I've finally gotten you alone. I want you to meet a friend of mine. Yeah, Ivan is all ready to cut your balls off so I can put them in a jar and give them to Bella."

I lean my head against my locker because I'm just too weary to have another pointless conversation today.

"You can have my balls, Alice. Without Bella, I have no use for them anyway."

"What?"

I turn around, and Gothzilla does in fact have a switchblade that she's pointing at me, but she looks thoroughly confused.

"I said you can have my balls. And when you're cutting, can you hit a major artery for me, if it wouldn't be too much trouble? Maybe I'll get lucky and bleed to death too."

Goth girl squints at me. "This conversation isn't going at all the way I thought it would."

"Let me guess. You thought I'd make some smartass remark about how my balls are way too good for you, throw in a few other insults, then take your knife?"

"Well, you'd never get Ivan, but something like that, yeah."

I just sigh and close my eyes. When I open them again, the pixie looks annoyed.

"What the fuck, Edward? You pretended to like Bella for the sake of your balls, but now you're willing to let me cut them off? What about your next conquest?"

I'm so tired of lying, and I just don't have the energy to pretend to be who I was before.

"There are … no conquests, Alice. I didn't pretend to like Bella—I'm in love with her—and I didn't do anything just so I could sleep with her. It wasn't even about that. Making love to her was the most amazing thing I've ever done."

Alice's eyes are so wide I swear they extend out past the edges of her little face, and I think she's choking on her tongue.

"Why don't you sit down before you fall down. I'll join you," I tell her, grasping her elbow, and she plops down on the floor so we're both sitting with our backs against the lockers.

"But Bella said—"

"I don't care what she said; her breaking up with me had nothing to do with sex. She dumped me because … because I lied to her."

I close my eyes, but I force myself to keep going. I learned from my last talk with Emmett that telling the truth makes me feel better, even if it's just for a little while, and right now, I'd do anything to ease the weight pressing down on me.

"I lie … a lot. But it's not because I want to; it's because I have to. Bella saw something she wasn't supposed to see, and … I … pretended to like her so she wouldn't tell anyone. But now I know she never would have told anyone because she's not like that, and I only pretended to like her at the very beginning. Once I got to know her, I realized that I really did like her—I fell in love with her. But I was so afraid of losing her that I never told her how it all started. I thought she would never find out, and everything would be okay."

"What happened?" I open my eyes, and Alice's gaze holds no reproach. Her hand is also resting on my arm.

"My brother wrote a note to his girlfriend Rosalie about it, and Rosalie kept that note and gave it to Lauren. And I guess … Lauren told Bella."

The Gothlet's eyes narrow to slits, and I can almost see the red-eyed hamster of evil running on the wheel in her mind.

"Oh, that girl has had it coming from me for so long, and now she's gonna get it," Alice murmurs, clutching Ivan-the-knife tighter. "I _told_ her to leave the two of you alone, but she just couldn't, could she?"

I manage half a smile, but a pound of flesh from Lauren, while satisfying, won't fix anything.

"I didn't know Lauren was involved until the dance this past Friday night," I admit, although it hurts to do so. "I think I might have hurt Bella even more by letting Lauren help me because of my hand, but … I guess it doesn't matter now."

"Why wouldn't it matter?"

"Bella doesn't care about me anymore, so …"

"Edward, _where_ did you get the idea that Bella doesn't care about you anymore?" Alice asks, her grip on my arm tightening.

"Well, she didn't believe me when I told her I loved her, and she won't even look at me anymore—"

"She looks at you _constantly_ , just not when you're looking," Alice mutters, and my eyebrows rise in disbelief. " _Do_ you love her?"

"More than anything. And I would do anything to get her to believe me."

Alice clasps her hands together and squeals. "I _knew_ there was more to this than Bella said! And I'm glad you're not the complete asshole I thought you were."

"Um … thanks?"

"Okay. So. What did Bella see that she wasn't supposed to?"

Heat creeps up my neck and chest, and I can feel it spreading across my cheeks. This is the closest I've ever come to telling anyone my secret. My heart starts to thunder in my chest—I wonder if Alice can hear it?

"Edward? Are you okay?"

"I … I can't tell you," I rasp out over painful breaths. "I can't tell anyone. Bella found out by accident."

"Okay," Alice says, rubbing my arm. "I don't think that's the important part anyway."

 _Oh, God, if she only knew._

"The important part is convincing Bella that you made a mistake. Everybody makes mistakes, but if you truly love each other, you should be able to see past those mistakes, right?"

"Right," I answer, not at all sure how we're gonna do that, but I'm totally on the "getting Bella to see past my mistakes" train.

"So you started seeing her for the wrong reason, but it turned into love, right?"

"Right."

"Okay, I can work with this. Just give me a little time," Alice says, starting to get up off the floor.

"Wait! What do you mean?" I ask as I scramble up beside her.

"I don't know yet. I'll figure something out. Thank you for telling me the truth, Edward. I don't know how, but everything's gonna be okay!"

She bounds upward and kisses my cheek, then skips away like some coked-out cupid. I don't know what just happened, but maybe it'll turn out to be good. Things can't get any worse, right?

* * *

A/N: What the hell is The Gothlet going to do?! See you on April 18!


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

" **Sometimes hearing the truth takes more courage than speaking the truth."  
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words**

 **Bella**

Edward got his cast off today. Instead of the royal blue fiberglass, his hand is now encased in a black brace. You'd think he'd be happy about it, but his expression when he walks into homeroom is the same as always—neutral with his eyes on the floor. I look at the calendar in my binder and realize with a start that it's been six weeks since he broke his hand. Six weeks since I broke up with him. How can it seem like only yesterday, but also a lifetime ago?

My eyes still follow him every day. The anger is long since gone, but the hurt remains, and somehow, I think it always will. But there are new emotions—concern and confusion—and they're starting to nag at me with their sensibility and logic.

If everything Edward said and did was a lie, then why does he still seem devastated by our breakup? I believe he knows now that I'd never tell anyone, and if he was upset over not getting what he wanted or missing the sex, wouldn't he be over that by now?

Admittedly, I'm watching from the sidelines, but it seems like he's just … existing. He doesn't hang out with Jasper anymore, or anyone, really. He's … alone, and I haven't seen him smile—I mean _really_ smile—since the day we broke up. And the rumors I heard last week were downright disturbing. I know he had it out with Bitch Face in the middle of the dance because everyone saw it, but I also heard he got really fucked up with Ken Doll and Tyler that night, and somehow Ken Doll ended up with a black eye. Edward didn't have any visible injuries, but I'm sure if he did get wasted he had a seizure on Saturday, and—

 _And you're still living your life as if it matters to you what happens to him._

I know I'm still in love with him, but the question that's been keeping me up at night is this: is he actually in love with me?

Reason needles at me—he would have gotten over not getting his way by now, and if he wanted sex, Bitch Face would have mounted him in front of the entire student body if he asked her to, or he could have charmed just about anyone. Instead, he walks around looking like a lost puppy, and he's isolated himself from almost everyone.

 _If he truly only cares about himself and his gain, he's doing a piss poor job of taking care of himself right now._

The Gothlet is next into homeroom, and— _what the fuck?_ Her gaze falls on Edward, but it's not the _your-balls-will-soon-be-mine_ death glare she usually gives him when she deigns to acknowledge he exists at all. Her eyebrows are furrowed as if she's concerned, and when he looks up at her, her lips curve into the hint of a smile. I shake my head to clear the hallucination, but her smile lingers as she sits down beside Angela.

I lean forward and fix her with my best _what-the-fuck-was-that_ look, but her smile just widens as her eyes twinkle at me. _Holy shit, has she been hitting the hay with the stoners again?_ Jasper may like her high as a kite once in a while, but the rest of us aren't into that shit, and certainly not during school. I don't get it, but I brush it off as some sort of cosmic oddity.

Until it happens again.

On Tuesday morning, I'm at my locker grabbing my books for biology, and as I turn to head down the hall, The Gothlet is passing by Edward. He's facing his locker, but as she touches his arm, he looks over his shoulder at her. I can't see how she's looking at him, but his expression brightens a little, and I think I see the hint of a spark of life in his eyes.

I must be losing my mind, or she's losing hers.

If I'm seeing things, it's my own problem, and I probably need to get my head examined, but if she's actually talking to Edward after what he did to me—I know she's a Goth, but the Girl Code still applies, doesn't it? Besties before testes? Chicks before dicks? That's still a thing even if black is the color of your soul, right? I don't know what's going on, if anything at all, but I can't help but feel a little hurt.

I'm on my way to lunch on Wednesday when the shit finally hits the fan. Angela and I are walking down the hall, and I glance toward the little hallway by the art room as I always do because that's the place Edward and I had our first civil conversation, and who do I see there but The Gothlet, deep in conversation with _he-whose-balls-were-promised-to-me_ , AKA Edward.

Now I'm fucking pissed. Because unless she's negotiating for his nuts, which I seriously doubt, she's just violated every Girl Code there ever was and napalmed our friendship.

I stomp down the hall with Angela clueless at my side, but I stop at the water fountain and pretend to drink until they both emerge from the alcove. Edward heads to his locker, but The Gothlet is coming our way.

"I'll meet you in the caf, Ang. I need to talk to Alice for a minute."

Ang looks confused, but she nods slowly. "Okay, I'll see you at our table."

I don't even notice as she walks off—my eyes are fixed on Baroness Von Backstabber as she skips down the hall.

She's still a good ten feet away when I can longer contain my temper.

"What the fuck, Alice? What's going on with you and Edward?"

She looks slightly surprised, but then she smiles— _smiles!_ —at me. "So you noticed."

"Of course, I noticed! He hasn't talked to anyone for weeks, and now all of a sudden, he's smiling at you and you're holed up talking in _our_ hallway? Now what the hell is going on?"

The Gothlet sighs heavily. "We need to talk."

A million things are flitting through my mind as I follow her through the lunch line, each one scarier than the last, until finally, we're seated at a table away from everyone else.

The Gothlet turns deadly serious as she faces me, her hands resting palms down on either side of her tray.

"Edward told me his secret."

" _What?"_

"Well, not the actual secret, but he told me you saw something you weren't supposed to."

My mind is reeling. "How in the _hell_ did you convince him to tell you that?"

"I didn't! I finally got him alone to cut his balls off for you, and he spilled his guts instead. Sat down and told me everything … well, except for the actual _thing_."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that he has to lie to cover up whatever it is, so when you saw it, he pretended to like you to keep you quiet."

Pain radiates around the edges of the hole in my chest as if it's trying to connect with the heart that isn't there anymore, and I lean back in my chair and press a hand there.

"But, Bella, there's more," The Gothlet says, reaching out to cover my other hand, and I listen to the rest of her words with my eyes closed.

"Once he got to know you, he realized that he really liked you. He fell in love with you, and he was so afraid of losing you that he made a mistake—he decided not to tell you how it started out. It was the wrong thing to do, and he knows that, but if it hadn't been for that note-saving bitch Rosalie and Lauren's stalker obsession with him, you'd still be together right now."

I sigh and shake my head. "I know all this, Alice. He told me the last time we talked. But how do I know him saying he loves me isn't a lie? I know he would do anything to protect himself."

"Bella, it's been six weeks since you broke up. If you haven't spilled his secret in all that time, do you really think he'd be trying to get back with you to protect something you're already protecting for him?"

Her words make sense, and the lovesick part of my brain is nodding furiously. But the voice of hurt is louder.

"After we broke up, he went right back to the populars, and he let Lauren help him with everything. How could he do that after she broke us up and humiliated me? He obviously thought what she did was just fucking fine, and he had to know that getting close to her would hurt me."

"No, he didn't!" The Gothlet exclaims. "Rosalie covered for Lauren—only _you_ knew who gave you the note. Edward didn't find out until the dance two weeks ago when Lauren fucked up and admitted it to him."

 _So that's what happened at the dance!_ I wasn't there, but The Gothlet and Ang told me Edward was livid, and Bitch Face ran out crying. I haven't seen them speak a word to each other since.

"That doesn't mean he loves me," I say stubbornly.

"He's been miserable since you broke up—anyone can see that."

"Maybe his dick's just lonely."

The Gothlet huffs impatiently. "He's got one working hand, and if that's not enough, he's gorgeous and popular enough to have almost any girl in the whole fucking town. If he wanted some, I'm sure the cheerleading squad would strip down and build him a pussy pyramid.

" _I_ believe he loves you," The Gothlet says, and when I meet her eyes, I see nothing but certainty. "Christ, when I threatened to cut his balls off, he asked if I could hit a major artery for him so he'd bleed to death. Does that tell you anything about his state of mind?"

 _Holy fuck!_ Tears choke my throat and gather at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. _Is he really that miserable without me?_

"He had absolutely no reason to tell me all this. All I wanted were his balls, and all this tumbled out instead. I think … I think he's just really tired of lying."

"Well then, he should stop," I retort with no small amount of heat.

"Can he? With whatever this secret is that he's keeping?"

I think about his anxiety and how hard it was for him to adjust to me, a single person, knowing about his condition, and the answer is obvious.

"No, he can't."

"Well then, is it fair to ask that of him?"

"That's not what I want," I admit, and although I wish things were different, I know I'd help him keep his secret forever, if that's what he needed. "I just wish he hadn't lied to _me_. He's so good at it, Alice—how can I trust him again? Keeping his secret is more important to him than me, and that means there's always the possibility this could happen again, and … and he's selfish.

"He assumed I would tell everyone what I saw to make me popular by putting him down because that's how he operates. That's why he used to bully people, did he tell you that? He put them down so the focus was never on him. Everything he does, he does for himself and no one else."

"No, he didn't tell me that," The Gothlet says, frowning. "But he hasn't bullied anyone since he started dating you, has he?"

"No."

"And he didn't go back to that when you broke up, did he?"

"Well … no."

"I think you've changed him, Bella. I've known him for years—he stopped being a bully when he started dating you, and since you broke up, he's been a ghost.

"And what about you? I know you still love him. You watch him every second of the day—it's like your world revolves around where he is, and if he's not in the room, then you have no center.

"He made a mistake, Bella. A really bad one, but I think he'd do just about anything to make it up to you. You both love each other—should you really have to spend the rest of your lives miserable because of one mistake? Just … talk to him. I think you'll see what I'm talking about if you just open your heart and listen."

 _Fuck._ It's as if The Gothlet and every nagging doubt in my head brainstormed and came up with the best way to confuse the hell out of me.

"I don't know, Alice. I need to think about it."

"I get it," The Gothlet says, squeezing my forearm. "And I hope you don't think that because I talked to him, now I'm on his side. I've just never seen two people so miserable, and I thought maybe I could help fix it."

I want to be angry at her, but my heart's not in it. I'm just so tired of feeling angry and hurt, and all she really did was listen to him.

"I'm not mad at you."

"Thank God!" The Gothlet exclaims. "You know, Assward can be really endearing when he's pouring his heart out to you. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him; he was that pathetic."

A vision of Edward the day after his first near-miss of a seizure at school comes to me unbidden, his head resting on my shoulder as he tells me he needs a way to escape.

"Yes, he can."

"But if he did somehow manage to bullshit me, this time it'll be his junk in a jar, and I'm keeping it for myself," The Gothlet says, winking at me as she gets up and heads over to sit with Jasper.

My mouth hangs open, but only for a few seconds. I think I'm actually getting used to The Gothlet's way of solving every high school problem with violence.

I rest my head in my hands, my brain going a thousand miles an hour trying to process everything The Gothlet said while the team Edward side of my brain flashes only one message: I told you so.

The Gothlet made all the points team Edward has been dogging me with for weeks, but she has one thing my Edward-loving neurons didn't have—she's talked to Edward and verified that he's still saying and feeling the same things he did six weeks ago.

Maybe he _is_ telling the truth.

Something warm and bright surges through the hole in my chest, and for a moment, I feel as if it isn't there. But only for a moment.

So what if he _is_ telling the truth and he _does_ love me—can I ever trust him again? And The Gothlet says he's changed, but has he really? Did he stop bullying because he doesn't want to hurt anyone that way again, or because it doesn't benefit him as much as he thought it did?

The questions swirl around in my head for the rest of the week, and although I feel Edward's eyes on me more than once, I can't seem to bring myself to meet them. I feel like I'm standing on some sort of precipice—caught between the need to play it safe and the urge to just jump—and so I hesitate, with uncertainty as my companion.

 ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**

I don't know what I'm doing here. The Gothlet damn near made me swear a blood oath that I'd show at the dance, but as I walk in the caf doors, I'm already regretting it. I haven't been to a dance since the Winter Formal, the night that was arguably the best night of my life. Even if Edward and I never get back together, it'll _still_ be the best night of my life because everything was just so perfect. I keep those memories in a separate place from the hurt I still feel, distancing myself as if I'm watching a movie—the scenes edged with soft golden light.

This dance is nothing like that, and I seriously don't know what the fuck I'm doing here. I dance with The Gothlet and Ang, but The Gothlet has a new move added to her groove this evening—she keeps looking over her shoulder as if she's expecting something … or some _one_. I'm not an idiot. Her insistence that I come tonight and her pleas that I talk to Edward add up to a Gothlet-staged Dr. Phil session, with the pixie swooping in to wave her wand or shoot her arrow or whatever the fuck to make everything magically okay. Alas, Cupid of the dark side, it doesn't work that way, even if it _is_ Valentine's Day.

I've been a resident of the land of confusion ever since Alice confessed to me on Wednesday—my heart and head pulling in different directions and switching places with a frequency you can clock with an egg timer. I just don't know. I want so much to throw caution to the wind and believe in him, but I'm scared. I can't do halfway with Edward. If I reach out for my heart that's still in his keeping, there'll be no defenses, no caution—I've missed him so much, I know I'm going to grab on with everything I have. So I have to be sure.

And I'm not.

I'm scared that the same selfish person I met six months ago is still lingering under there—that _he's_ the real Edward, not the sweet, sensitive boy who was forced into a personality of self-protection by his own fears and a debilitating illness. The boy I fell in love with as he slowly and painfully let me into his lonely world. I want that boy back. I want to heal his wounds and soothe his soul and make him smile again.

I'm fucked.

A slow song comes on, and Ben and Jasper materialize out of nowhere, just like good boyfriends should. I feel a tug in my chest for what was, but I try my best to ignore it.

Alice looks at me with pity in her eyes and another glance over her shoulder. _I don't think he's coming._

But no matter how much I'd prefer it, I'm not destined to be alone with my loss right now.

"There she is! Go on!"

A pair of well-worn black Chucks appear toe-to-toe with me, and I look up into the face of Austin.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks nervous.

"Hey, Bella, I …"

He runs a hand through his hair just the way Edward does—when Edward does it, I want to climb him like a tree, but with Austin, it sends a nervous shiver down my spine and makes me want to plant both hands on his chest and push, _hard_.

"Um … would you like to dance?"

 _Eddie boy may have gotten your cherry, but when it's my turn, I want the whole pie._

 _I've got something long and loose and full of juice right here for you._

 _Just making sure I wouldn't be stepping on your toes if I take my turn._

I just stare at him as his words roll around in my head, my eyebrows rising ever higher.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I … I'd really like to dance with you."

He honestly looks confused. Even if he doesn't know I overheard his conversation with Edward, has he forgotten his homeroom soliloquy that clinched his starring role in "Could You _Be_ More of a Chauvinistic Pig"? Because I sure haven't.

"Austin, I wouldn't dance with you if you were the last guy on earth and dancing was the only way to avoid getting the Black Plague. I would rather die covered in pus-filled boils than do anything with you."

I say it _loud_ , and the fact that the current song ends just as I start speaking increases the range of my words.

He's stunned, but as laughter starts to echo around us, his eyes narrow and his cheeks flush with red splotches.

"Shit, Austin, you just got _told_!" Ken Doll exclaims, howling with laughter.

The Gothlet walks up and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Wow, Bella, tell us how you really feel!" And her cackle sets off another round of mirth at Austin's expense. Meanwhile, Mr. Long and Loose and Full of Juice is turning puce—damn, that rhymes and somehow makes this even funnier!—his eyes blazing with humiliation and hatred.

"You bitch!" he roars, taking a step toward me before Jasper grabs him by the shoulder. "You're gonna regret that," he warns, pointing a finger in my face as he slowly backs away.

The look in his eyes frightens me, but it's replaced by a fierce surge of pride in myself for saying what was on my mind for once. A satisfied smile tugs at my cheeks as I look at the faces around me … and then my eyes fall on Edward.

He's here.

* * *

A/N: The Gothlet has given it her best shot—now it's up to Bella. And what's up with Austin? Okay, readers, cross your fingers and send me all your good wishes and mojo because I'm not done writing the next chapter yet. It's a big one and I want to make sure it's as good as it can be, so I'm taking my time. I hope to post in two weeks!


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

" **There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love."  
― Bryant H. McGill**

 **Bella**

I meet his eyes for the first time in weeks, and it's both brutally strange and achingly familiar. Looking at him straight on, his face looks thinner, and there's more scruff on his cheeks than he ever left there when we were dating. The smudges under his eyes are dark, and he just looks fucking tired and broken, as if a piece of him is missing—exactly the way I feel. Faded jeans, the soft green button-down with the chest pocket that I used to put Jolly Ranchers into, and—wow—both hands in his pockets. It seems his hand is completely healed.

Can we heal too?

He closes his eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, and it's as if I can see his nerves rattling just under the surface—like he's trying to get himself together enough to come talk to me. To break the silence that has endured since I said goodbye to him six weeks or a lifetime ago. I really don't know which.

And I'm not sure if I want him to or not.

Fear and anticipation surge in such similar ways; it's hard to tell which one I'm feeling as he shuffles across the floor toward me, his own steps far from certain, until he's right here, and I have to raise my chin to meet his eyes.

The tears well instantly, and all the emotions of the past weeks come flooding back, but loss and loneliness and hurt are right on the surface, making me want to throw my arms around him and save us both.

But I don't.

"Hi, Bella."

His voice caresses my name as only his ever could, and I melt a little as I croak out a broken, "Hi."

"Can we talk? Please? I … I have some things I want to say, even if it won't change anything."

My heart is thundering in my chest, and I seem to have lost the power of speech, so I just nod at him, then follow him as he weaves a path through the dancers and up the caf stairs into the main hallway of the school. There's a lunch table against the wall under one of the trophy cases, and he leads me there, leaning against it as he turns to face me.

"Can we sit? I'm a little—"

"Nervous?"

"Nauseous."

We say the words at the same time, and I suspect they're true for both of us.

He smiles just a little as he looks down, and I do the same although he doesn't see it, and I mirror his pose as he sits on the table, one leg bent in front of him so he can face me.

Well, his body is facing me anyway. His face is angled downward so he can stare at his bent knee, and I can hear his rapid, shallow breaths and hard swallows. He's close to panicking, and I'm already trying to come up with ways I can help ground him that won't freak him out even more when he raises misty green eyes to mine, and his words finally come tumbling out.

"Bella, lying to you was the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life. I expected you to be like everyone else because I didn't know you, but now that I do, I know you would never, ever hurt someone else to help yourself."

He takes another deep breath, and his eyes shift downward. "But that's what _I_ did. I pretended to like you to keep you from telling everyone, and I bullied so many people to keep the attention away from me. I wish I could take that back too. I've done … so many awful things in the name of protecting myself, and maybe I didn't have to—I'm pretty sure now that I didn't have to—but I didn't know that at the time, and I let myself become a complete asshole.

"I don't like who I am. I hate all the lying, I hate that no one can get close to me, and I'm just so fucking tired of being alone and afraid."

He closes his eyes and a tear escapes onto his cheek, but he dashes it away. "I hate that I have epilepsy, and I hate that I can't just fucking deal with telling everyone the truth … but I can't.

"The only time— _the only time_ —I've been happy since before all this happened was when I was with you." Now his eyes seek out mine, and the longing in them is so deep, so powerful, that I can feel it in my chest, taste it in the air.

"I love you, Bella, and … I like who _I_ am when I'm with you. You just make _everything_ in my life easier to deal with, and you make me feel strong and not afraid. You make me feel like I might be worth something. And I love talking about Game of Thrones with you and helping you with physics, and I love dancing with you and touching you, and … I just love you. I don't know what else to say. And I would do anything to make you believe me—anything but the one thing I _can't_ do.

"And I want to do things for you. I know you think I'm selfish, and you're right, I am, but … but I don't _want_ to be. I want … to make you smile and make you laugh. I want to take you on dates and hold your hand and show everyone that I'm yours. I wanna be … someone you're proud to call your boyfriend because he does such awesome things for you. You might have to help me with that because I'm not used to doing things for other people, but I want to."

I look into his eyes and it's all there—the pain and self-loathing, the confusion and loss, the love that he feels for me, the sincerity of his apology. It's all there, and he's so close, and my hand is itching to reach out and touch him, to tell him it's okay and I forgive him and I love him. I lean forward and I can feel his breath—I want to kiss him so badly it hurts, and I just want to forget what he did, pretend it never happened. He's so warm and _right here,_ and it would be _so_ easy—he closes his eyes when we're two inches apart and—

"No!" The word flies from my mouth, startling us both, breaking the spell of the moment. I need time to think. He's too close, and I'm thinking with my hormones and not my wounded heart or my head and I just … I need to get out of here.

Wide green eyes meet mine, brimming with shock and hurt, but this is all happening too quickly, and we need to talk and not kiss, but I can't even begin to think of the words as he stares into my eyes in the semi-darkness and "Fall for You" plays in the background.

"You don't … believe me, do you?" He says the words as if he's in a daze, and they're not really a question. I know I'm fucking this up, but I just can't sort it all out in my head.

"I don't … I don't know. I just … I just can't … I need to go!" My heart twists in my chest with every inch of distance I put between us, but I leap from the table and tear down the hall into the main part of the school.

I can hear Edward calling my name, but I don't stop until I get to the main lobby, panting and brushing away tears. I can't stay here because I don't want him to find me—I don't want _anyone_ to find me until I've had some time, so I try to the gym doors, and thankfully, they're open.

I walk briskly down the stairs and across the floor to the far corner of the bleachers. Even if someone comes in, they won't see me in the darkness.

When I finally sit down, the weight of what just happened falls on me, and the tears begin in earnest. I miss him _so_ much, and now that the hormones have been drowned by tears, my heart is begging me to run back to him and fall into his arms and just … make everything okay.

 _Is_ everything okay?

 _Lying to you was the biggest mistake I've ever made in my life._

With his words comes the look in his eyes, sorrowful but unflinching, owning what he did, and I know in my heart he really _does_ mean it.

 _I've done so many awful things in the name of protecting myself, and I'm pretty sure now that I didn't have to._

Holy fuck, he _did_ listen to me. He heard me all those weeks ago when I told him he didn't need to hurt others to help himself, even though he denied it at the time.

 _I don't like who I am. I hate all the lying, I hate that no one can be close to me, and I'm just so fucking tired of being alone and afraid._

His voice broke over the words—there's so much pain there. _How_ did I not throw my arms around him and tell him he never has to be alone or afraid ever again?

 _I know you think I'm selfish, and you're right, I am, but … but I don't_ want _to be._

 _I think you've changed him, Bella._

Alice's words follow right after Edward's, and team Edward in my head seems to be holding its breath and so am I. The precipice I stand on doesn't seem quite so high anymore and …

 _He made a mistake, Bella. A really bad one, but I think he'd do just about anything to make it up to you. You both love each other—should you really have to spend the rest of your lives miserable because of one mistake?_

"No!"

My answer echoes in the gym, and hope surges in my chest like a gale, holding me up as I leap off the precipice and into the chasm of blind trust borne of the love I feel for him—the love I've always felt but was afraid to own because he hurt me. You _don't_ stop loving someone just because they hurt you, and if you love them, then you have to be willing to forgive them when they make a mistake, even if it is a horrible one.

And I do.

I love him, and I forgive him.

 _You don't … believe me, do you?_

He bared his soul to me, and I _ran away_.

"Oh, God, what have I done?"

I dash across the gym floor.

 _I've got to find him and tell him I love him and forgive him, and—_

I let out a squeak, confused as I'm brought to a sudden halt at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, look what we have here, Mike."

"Let me go!" I yell as I pull to get away, but Austin's grip on my wrist is like a vice. Both of them start to laugh at me.

"Oh, I don't think so, Swan. I've wanted you for a long time."

Rage fills me, and I whirl to face him. He's leering at me, and I'm more disgusted than I've ever been. I take two steps so I'm right in his face and raise my chin defiantly.

"I told you _no_ ," I say with as much venom as I can muster, and I spit right in his face.

Ken Doll gasps, but Austin just snorts a laugh as he wipes off his face. And before I know what's happened, my cheek explodes in pain, and I'm pressed against the wall of the gym with my hands pinned over my head and Austin's knee between my legs.

"Maybe you don't _get_ to say no," he growls, and the stench of whiskey turns my stomach as I break out in a cold sweat.

 _Oh, God, he wouldn't …_

"Austin, what the f-f-fuck—" Ken Doll slurs as he appears beside us, leaning on the wall.

"Fuck off, Mike! You can either jerk off while you watch or leave—I don't give a fuck—but I'm getting mine tonight, and I swear I'll beat your ass if you interfere. You _know_ I owe her one—two if you count what she just did. And you know she gave it up for Cullen. Now she can give it up for me."

I gasp as Austin raises his knee so it presses right _there_ , and fear floods me in a rush of shivers.

"No … Mike … help!"

I barely get a breath before Austin's kissing me, and I taste blood as my lip is smashed against my own teeth. I thrash my head, but he follows, thrusting his tongue into my mouth so hard I nearly gag.

I'm panting and crying when he pulls away, and I jerk back when he grabs my chin _hard_.

"Not so tough now, are you? Go ahead and fight, Bella. It just makes me harder."

His hand slides down my neck, and I jerk forward as my blouse rips and buttons go flying, and I squeal as he squeezes my breast.

"No! Please! Don't—"

His knee grinds upward again, but suddenly, I'm on the ground and Edward is between me and Austin.

I can't see Edward's face, but I hear his gasp and swear as he shakes out his right hand—the one that was broken.

Austin is bent over, cupping his nose as Edward turns toward me.

"Son of a bitch," he swears, but there are tears in his eyes as he kneels before me and takes my hands. "Did he—"

"No." But I'm shaking, and it's hard to breathe.

"But I'm gonna," Austin says, and Edward pulls us both to our feet as he turns, keeping me firmly behind him.

"Over my dead body," Edward growls, but Austin just laughs.

"It'll be like foreplay. Bella can watch while I fuck up Cullen's pretty face. Mike, come hold her."

"The hell I will," Ken Doll says, coming up beside Austin. "I've wanted to fuck up Cullen for a long time now."

Edward glances over his shoulder, and suddenly, his arms are stretched backward to cage me, and we're moving along the wall toward the glass doors that lead to the parking lot. _He has a plan._

We're almost there when Ken Doll steps forward, and before Edward can react, he's nearly on his knees clutching his stomach and gasping.

"But I still want Swan," Austin says, making a grab for me, but the next thing I know, I'm freezing and Edward is pulling the gym door shut tight between us.

I tug on it immediately and gasp in horror.

It's locked.

Edward's eyes lock to mine from the other side of the glass, and I can't stop the tears as I beat on the door with my fists. His gaze is everything, and I watch as his pain turns to determination, readying himself to fight.

He mouths one word, then turns to face two angry, drunken boys, outmanned and outgunned.

"Run."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the cliffie, but it had to end here in order to flow correctly. Is Edward your hero? Chapter 39 will post on Thursday because I don't want to leave you hanging for two weeks. See you soon!


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

" **Love is not what you say. Love is what you do."  
― Anonymous**

 **Bella**

 _Oh, God._

 _OhGodOhGodOhGod …_

The door flies open as Edward takes a punch, but he pulls it shut again with both hands behind him.

But there are other doors.

Austin's face appears in the glass of the door next to the one Edward's holding, and I scream as I stumble backward.

 _Edward can't defend himself if he's trying to protect me._

 _Run!_

I turn and take off blindly, flying down the hill until I reach the side of the building and I'm out of sight of the gym doors.

My hand finds the brick wall, and I lean over, unable to catch my breath. The taste of iron sickens me, and I spit out bile and blood, my lip stinging and my cheek throbbing as I gasp for air.

I cringe as Austin's face swims before me, and my wrists ache as if they're still pinned over my head.

And that's when I hear it—footfalls on the concrete. _They're outside._

"Austin!"

The footfalls stop, and I can't see him as I press my back against the wall, but he's close to the corner—close enough that I hear him swear under his breath. "What?"

"Stop thinking with your dick and get back here! Bella's long gone. I need you to hold him up!"

 _Hold … who … oh, God._

 _Edward!_

 _I have to get help._

The haze in my brain clears, and I sprint toward the football field, making for the back door to the caf and praying I can find Emmett before …

 _We're way past "before" if Austin is holding Edward up._

"Emmett! Emmett, it's Edward!" I screech, slamming into his chest. He catches me by the elbows, his eyes boring into mine.

"Is it—"

"No, it's worse! Austin tried—" _Shit! I can't even say it!_ "—but Edward saved me! Now he's all alone!"

Emmett's eyes widen as he takes in my torn blouse and the bruise that surely covers my aching cheek. "Bella …"

"Just go!"

"Where?" Emmett demands, gripping my arms a little tighter as a scowl settles on his face.

"Out front. Hurry!" I yell at him, and he immediately releases my arms and barrels for the doors like a freight train.

I stand there, gasping for air for a moment while my mind tries to catch up.

 _Emmett will—Christ, Emmett will kill them both for what they've done to Edward—_ someone has to stop the fight _—I need to get more help._

I look around frantically, and— _oh, thank God_! Varner is striding purposely across the caf, intent on whoever he's about to bitch out.

"Mr. Varner! Mr. Varner!"

He nearly runs into me as I block his path, but as he steps back, his eyes lock on my chest and his jaw drops.

I glance down self-consciously and see my bra—my blouse is torn and hanging open, almost down to my belly button. For a second, I flash back to the sound of the fabric ripping, the ping of buttons hitting the floor—

 _I need you to hold him up!_

"Edward!"

"What the—Edward did this?" Mr. Varner asks, scowling.

I pull my blouse together and hold it with one hand, shaking my head as I grasp his arm with my other one. "No! Austin, he—and now there's a fight, and you have to stop it!"

"Okay, okay. But what happened—"

"They're out front! Please! I sent Emmett, and he'll kill them for hurting Edward!"

"Shit!" Varner swears, shaking his head. "Bob? Go on and I'll be there in a minute?"

Mr. Banner nods and takes off at a jog for the caf doors—I didn't even see him come up to us.

"Bella, are you all right? Your face …"

I put a hand to my cheek and wince as tears well in my eyes. "I was alone in the gym, and—and he said I couldn't say no—"

"Austin? Did he … uhh—"

"No, but he would have if Edward hadn't—oh God, _Edward_! I have to go—"

"Bella, wait—"

He grabs my wrist, but my gasp-wince makes him let go, and I bolt for the caf doors, dodging clueless students left and right. I think I hear The Gothlet call my name, but I don't stop—I can't stop until I get to Edward. He has to be okay—he just _has_ to!

 _Emmett got there in time and kicked the shit out of both of them—_

I skid to a halt trying to process what's before me.

Emmett is red-faced and screaming curses as he tries to get around Mr. Banner, who has both hands planted on Emmett's chest and is shoving him back with all his might.

Ken Doll is on all fours, gasping, and Austin is bent over him—

 _Where's Edward?_

"Oh!" A strangled cry escapes me as I fling myself across the parking lot and fall to my knees beside him. He's on his stomach on the concrete, the side of his face lying against the cold, hard surface.

Blood is everywhere. It seeps from a gash above his right eye and pools on the road beneath him. It drips from his busted lower lip, now swollen and angry-looking. And it flows freely from his nose, obviously disjointed and broken. The skin under both his eyes is already smudged reddish-purple. His right eye is swollen shut.

"Oh, my God, Edward!" I wail, wanting to pull him into my arms but terrified I'll hurt him further by moving him. I touch the side of his head gently, and he winces, but the corner of his mouth rises ever so slightly in the hint of a smile.

"Believe … me … now?" he forces out on weak breaths, and my heart shatters into a thousand pieces in my chest.

"Yes! God, yes, I believe you! You … you saved me. I can't believe you saved me from …" I can't finish the sentence. I haven't had time to go into shock over what happened to me, and I know eventually it'll truly hit me, and I'll have to deal with it, but right now, my only concern is Edward and getting him the help he needs.

My head whips up frantically—Ken Doll and Austin are sitting on the curb with Mr. Varner standing in front of them.

"… we've had an incident at Forks High. Yes, send Charlie, and we need the paramedics … five injured …"

Edward shifts his bloodied hand and tries to push himself upward but collapses back to the ground with a cry.

"Hurts … breathe …" he whispers, panting harshly.

"Shh … don't try to move. Mr. Varner called the police and the ambulance, and they'll be here any minute. Everything's going to be okay," I explain, trying to comfort him.

"Stay …" he breathes, his eye drifting closed wearily.

"Of course, I'll stay," I whisper. "Forever."

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

The wait for the paramedics is an eternity, and I tune out everything around me but Edward. I hold his left hand because his right is swollen and purple— _I wonder if he broke it again … on Austin's fucking face_ —and although his eyes are closed, he squeezes my fingers every few minutes to let me know he's still with me.

My chest aches, and I realize it's because I'm barely breathing—trying to hold everything just as it is until help gets here.

The flash of the ambulance lights startles me back to life.

"Here! Over here!" I yell, waving the hand that's not holding Edward's, and the guy quickly changes direction and jogs over to us.

"He … they … please help him!"

"Don't worry, I—are you okay?"

I glance up from Edward, and the guy is giving me a look I should be used to by now—eyes wide and staring at my bra because I let my shirt go to hold on to Edward.

"I'm fine! Him first—please!"

He nods his head and focuses on Edward, gently removing my hand from his and putting two fingers to Edward's wrist.

"What's his name?"

"Edward."

"Edward? Hey, buddy, are you with me?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me your last name?"

"Cullen."

"One of Dr. Cullen's boys?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Edward, I'm going to roll you on to your back so I can check you over. Is that okay?"

"Yes. Whoa, fuck …"

"Edward? Are you still with me?"

"Yeah … too fast … spinning …"

"Were you drinking tonight?"

"No."

"Did you hit your head?"

"Yeah. On the ground … I think …"

"Bella?"

I startle as someone touches my arm, and I tear my eyes away from Edward.

"Mr. Varner said you were hurt—"

It's a female EMT, and her eyes do the same thing everyone else's have when they look at me.

"Did one of these boys do this to you?" she asks, her gaze hardening.

"Yes."

"I'll be right back, honey. Stay here," she says before turning and walking briskly back the way she came.

Edward's cry of pain tears at my heart—the EMT has Edward's shirt open, and he's poking at a huge bruise on the side of his chest.

"You may have a broken rib or two. We'll move you as carefully as we can, okay?"

Edward says nothing—he looks like he's out of it, but when I take his hand, the eye he can open quickly finds me.

"Bella …"

"I'm so sorry, I—"

"Miss, we need to move him."

"Edward, I'll see you at the hospital, okay?" I say, squeezing his hand before I let go. "Let them take care of you."

"Bella," Edward mumbles, but then the EMT is talking to him again.

"One, two, three!"

I cringe at his pained gasp and rapid intake of breath.

 _This is all your fault._

 _If you hadn't run away from him, none of this would have happened._

Tears fall as they load Edward into the ambulance, and I watch mutely as the EMT continues to look him over. The guy lifts Edward's swollen hand to inspect it, unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt to get a better look. I see him flip Edward's bracelet over, a frown creasing his brow as he reads it.

Just then, Edward starts convulsing. "Shit! He's seizing!" the EMT yells. "Brian, tell John we need to get this one outta here now! I'm gonna need you in here with me. Epileptic with a probable concussion; I doubt this is gonna stop."

My heart, my breath, my brain—everything—just stops. Oh, my God, _those assholes punched him in the face, and he hit his head on the ground_. He can't fight! He can't hit his head!

 _And he knew all this when he shoved you out the gym door and pulled it shut._

The look in his eyes as he watched me through the glass of the gym door assaults me, and the realization of what he actually did floods my mind.

 _He risked … everything—his very life for me._

 _Oh, Edward, you risked your life for me! How could you risk your life for me?_

I take a step toward the ambulance, my eyes glued to Edward's jerking form as my heart explodes in my chest. _No!_

 _He gave up everything, and he didn't give a shit about the consequences. And you thought he was selfish._

The EMTs pull the doors shut as the sirens wail, and everything inside me twists with a sickening lurch.

"Edward … _no_ …"

I fall to my knees as it all overwhelms me. Great, choking sobs wrack my body, and even though my eyes are closed, I can still see Edward seizing in the back of the ambulance as it pulls away.

"Bella? Bella!"

I fly to my dad and cling to him, burying my nose in the familiar smell of his leather jacket.

He pulls me back and holds me at the elbows, his eyes widening as he takes in my torn blouse and bruised face. "Edward!" he roars, looking around frantically.

"No, Daddy, no," I whisper, and I point a shaking finger toward Austin, who's still sitting on the curb talking to one of the other officers. I can't look at him.

He's across the parking lot in an instant, his deputies moving to restrain him as he grabs Austin by the throat.

"What did you do to my daughter?" he roars at him, struggling to break free of the guys now holding him.

Austin's white as a sheet as he coughs and clutches his throat, but once Dad realizes his guys aren't gonna let him commit murder, he shrugs them off and runs back over to me. He tears off his jacket and wraps me in it, covering my chest and the marks I know he can see.

"Bella, are … are you all right? Did he—"

His eyes are watery and pleading. I shake my head.

"Thank God! But he—" his hand reaches toward my cheek and I close my eyes. "That bastard! I'll have him locked up! You'll need to give a statement—"

"Charlie."

The female EMT is back, and she puts a hand on Dad's shoulder.

"She needs to go to the hospital. Her lip might need stitches, and they'll need to take pictures."

"Uh … right …"

The hospital! _Yes, I need to go to the hospital to be with Edward._

I startle a little when Dad touches my chin.

"Oh, honey, I—"

He pulls me into his arms, and I feel … safe. I do my best to ignore the fact that he's shaking—whether it's with rage or sorrow, I can't tell, but I've never seen him this unhinged.

"I have to stay here and deal with … _them_ , but I'll come to the hospital as soon as I can. Liz?"

He glances over at the EMT, and she responds with a warm smile at me.

"I'll stay with her, Charlie."

Dad squeezes my shoulders and starts to turn away, but my eyes fall on Emmett, pacing in front of one of Dad's officers as he's being questioned.

"Dad—"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Whatever they tell you … Edward saved me and fought both of them off alone, and I sent Emmett to help him. Edward and Emmett didn't do anything wrong."

Dad's eyes stray to Emmett, but he nods his head.

"Okay. We'll talk about it some more at the hospital, all right?"

"Yeah," I say as Liz shepherds me over to a waiting ambulance.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I retreat into myself once Dad is gone, doing my best to keep the image of Edward convulsing out of my head while I'm examined and transported to the hospital. No one asks me any questions.

My tears have stopped, and I'm not freaking out, so Liz sits me on a regular ER bed while they get a room ready for my examination. I've seen enough crime TV shows to know that I'm going to have to tell them everything while they take pictures. Fuck.

The curtain is partially pulled, but I hear voices, so I lean forward just in time to see Emmett sit down hard on the bed across the way.

Esme takes the ice pack from his hand and tries to hold it to the bruising around his eye, but Emmett pushes it away.

"There might be charges against you."

Emmett stares into space with a black look. "I don't care. You didn't see it, Mom. Edward was on the ground already when I got there. Those guys were _not_ gonna stop." His eyes shine with the same fire as they did in the parking lot.

Esme closes her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand.

"How is he?" Emmett asks, his expression softening.

She looks at him gravely. "Not good. He has a concussion from his head hitting the concrete. He had a seizure in the ambulance … it was almost thirty minutes before they could stop it."

I hear Emmett's strangled sob, and I bury my head in my hands, unable to hear any more. This is all my fault, and Edward is the one suffering for it.

I hear someone sobbing, and I don't realize it's me until I feel Esme's arms around me. I break down completely.

"It's my fault ... all my fault!" I sob. "Edward and Emmett, they wouldn't be here if—"

"No, dear, no, it's not your fault. It's not your fault at all. What those boys tried to do ... I am proud," she says fiercely. "So _proud_ of my sons today. One for defending your honor, and the other for defending his brother," she finishes, her gaze falling on Emmett.

Now she returns her gaze to me. "Edward will be all right; he's strong."

"But the seizure—"

"They stopped it, and we'll just have to see how he is when he wakes up. His other injuries are minor, so as long as he wakes from the seizure okay …"

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

 **Edward**

I feel like I'm underwater. I can hear voices, but I can't make out any of the words, and things seem to be getting brighter, like I'm coming to the surface. Suddenly, the light is too bright, and I scrunch my eyebrows together to make it darker. _Fuck, that hurts!_ I raise my hand to my forehead, and I cry out as my own touch sends spikes of agony through my head.

Hands are on me instantly, lowering my hand from my forehead and gently pushing me back as I struggle to open my eyes. I can only open one. The other one opens enough to let some light in, but it hurts so much to try to open it further that I let it go closed again. My chest aches, and it hurts every time I breathe. My mom is leaning over me, smiling, but she also looks frightened somehow. What the hell is going on?

"M-m-mom?" I say, but it comes out as barely a whisper.

Her smile widens. "Yes, honey, I'm here. Don't try to move, okay? You've been hurt, and I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore."

I think about that for a moment, or at least, I try to. My head feels all swimmy, and I have no idea how I got hurt.

"W-w-wh-a-a … h-h-hap-p-p …" I draw in a frustrated breath, unable to finish saying the words. I know what I want to say, sort of, but I just can't seem to do it. The more I try to concentrate, the more my head hurts. I close my eyes and try to bring my hand to my forehead again, but again, Mom stops me.

"Honey, don't touch your face. Does your head hurt?"

I don't know which is worse, trying to nod or trying to talk. "Y-y-y-e-e …" _Dammit!_ Now I'm starting to get scared.

"Okay, we'll get you some medicine," Mom says, and I see her glance over her shoulder at someone. A doctor? "Edward, do you remember what happened to you?"

I try again, but I can't seem to hold on to anything. All my memories just seem vague and distant. A thrill of fear rolls down my spine. "N-n-n-o-o …" I huff out another frustrated breath. "W-w-w-h-h …" I point at my mouth with one shaking finger, my one eye now wide with fear, my breath starting to come faster.

"Shh … calm down, sweetheart, everything's okay. After you were hurt, you had a really long seizure, and Dr. Sutton thinks that's why you can't talk right. It should get better as more time passes."

 _Holy hell, what happened to me?_ I raise my hand again to touch my face, and Mom gently holds my arm, but this time, I yank it from her grasp. "T-t-t-e-l-l … m-m-m-e …" I stutter out, the fear that's now coursing through my bloodstream making me frustrated and irritable.

Mom turns to the doctor, who I now realize is Dr. Sutton, my neurologist. "Can I just tell him what happened? I know you wanted to see if he remembered, but since he can't really tell us right now …"

"P-p-p-l-l-l …" I slur, beseeching her with a pleading look. I have to get some answers here.

Dr. Sutton nods. "We'll have to wait to do most of the assessments anyway since he's experiencing dysarthria."

"Honey," Mom begins, "you got in a fight at a dance at school. You were … outmatched, so you got beaten up pretty badly. You have a broken nose and stitches above your eye, which is why we don't want you touching your face. You also have a broken rib and a concussion from hitting your head on the ground in the school parking lot. That's why you had the really long seizure."

I listen as she tells me what happened, but I feel … disconnected. I can't remember any of it. Who did I fight with, and why? Am I in trouble now?

I close my eye as I try to focus in on anything, but I just can't. I'm tired and hurting _a lot_ , but the thought of trying to communicate what I need is overwhelming. I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

"Edward, can Dr. Sutton give you some medicine for the pain and to help you rest? I know you want to know more, but it might be easier in a few hours when you'll be able to talk better."

"Y-y-y-e-e-s-s," I answer slowly, my eye still closed.

"Oh, honey, it's going to be okay. Things will get better. I know you're confused now, but I promise it'll be better soon," Mom says, but I can hear the quaver in her voice. I lift my hand from the bed, and she holds it between both of hers, gently massaging my fingers. We sit that way as more tears roll down my cheeks until the medicine starts working, and I'm dragged under.

* * *

A/N: Emmett to the rescue, but was the damage already done? Chapter 40 will post on May 30!


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

" **No one blames her."**

 **"That never matters," said Alec. "Not when you blame yourself."  
― Cassandra Clare, City of Lost Souls**

 **Bella**

They take pictures. Of the bruises on my face, wrists, and breast. Of the scrapes on my chest from his fingernails. Of the stitches in my lip, split open by my own teeth. Of my torn clothing.

I probably have bruises in places I don't tell them about, but he didn't rape me, so there's no way I'm letting them take pictures down _there_. Even if he did knee me so hard I saw stars.

When the exam is done, they let me change my clothes. Dad's brought me a new set of everything, and I don't even question when he bags up everything I had on. Whether it's evidence or not, I don't want to see it again anyway.

He holds my hand as I give my statement, squeezing my fingers when my voice quavers, and I'm not sure if it's in anger or support. Maybe both.

He wants me to go home, but I don't even consider it. Edward's been admitted to neurology, and as soon as I'm through with all the bullshit, I head straight there, Dad hot on my heels.

Emmett's in the hallway outside Edward's room. He's bruised, but so much less than Edward. He's my hero.

"He's still unconscious," he tells me. "They don't know when he'll wake up, and they're only letting one person at a time in there. Mom's hogging all the time."

He laughs, but it's weak and his smile doesn't linger. We both know how serious this could be, but my Dad is clueless.

"Bells—"

"Edward has epilepsy, Dad. That's why he's up here. They hit him, and he has a concussion from hitting his head on the ground, and he had a seizure in the ambulance that wouldn't stop—"

Dad pulls me to him, and I cry against his shoulder.

"Jesus. Did you tell Officer Banes?"

"No," Emmett answers. "No one knows, and I … it's not their business. I would have done the same even if Edward wasn't … and I saw what they did to Bella."

Dad squeezes me a little tighter, and I hold in a wince.

"Thank you. I can't say this on the record, but you got in the shots I couldn't. Those boys will likely press charges, but we'll work something out. There's no way I'm letting you take the fall for protecting these two."

When Dad reaches for Emmett's shoulder, I slip out of his arms, drawn to the little rectangular window in the hospital room door.

Edward lies still, his face angled a bit toward Esme. His nose and lips are puffy, and bruising spreads across his cheeks and around one horribly swollen eye to a line of stitches above. He looks like hell, but I know the worst of the damage probably can't be seen.

 _Oh, Edward, please wake up and tell me you're okay. You_ have to _be_ _okay_.

But he doesn't, and Dad forces me to go home.

I call Emmett first thing Saturday morning, and the news is not good. Edward woke up Friday night, but he had trouble talking and didn't remember what happened to him. He was in a lot of pain, so they knocked him out again with morphine.

He had a seizure in his sleep during the night, and then another. Emmett tells me he's never had seizures in his sleep before.

I want to go to the hospital, but Emmett tells me there's no point—until Edward's less disoriented and they're able to do a neurological exam—they're not letting anyone into his room but his parents. Emmett would be allowed in, but Edward doesn't remember the fight, and they don't want Emmett's appearance to upset him.

Emmett promises he'll text me when Edward's ready for visitors, but I pester the hell out of him for updates anyway.

My phone is blowing up every time I look at it—texts and calls from The Gothlet, Angela, Ben, even Jasper—and who the hell gave my number to that bitch who always hits on Edward in calculus? I ignore them all. All I can think about is Edward, which is a good thing in a way because the last thing I want to do is relive the events of Friday night. The earlier ones anyway. My brain is stuck on a loop that starts with the one I love lying broken on the ground and ends with him seizing for the longest time I've ever heard of. _Fuck._

Saturday into Sunday, Edward wakes a few times at odd hours, but he's confused. He's still having seizures. His speech is improving, but slowly. He's groggy and out of it, and he doesn't ask any questions relevant to what happened on Friday. They don't push him. I talk to Esme on Sunday afternoon, and she calls it the postictal state—Edward's brain is still recovering from the first seizure, and it could take a few days. She tells me not to worry, but I can hear the strain in her voice.

Dad gives me a break and lets me skip school on Monday. I'm not ready to deal with the clusterfuck that's waiting for me, and he'd have to pick me up at lunch to take me to have my stitches checked anyway. When he comes home for lunch, he tells me there won't be any charges against Emmett—Austin and Ken Doll agreed not to go after him for assault in exchange for the Cullens not pressing charges against them for the assault on Edward. Since Emmett's an adult, to everyone else it looks like he got the better end of the deal, but no one knows that Edward's lying in a hospital bed because he can't remember what day it is, and he's had more seizures in a weekend than he's had all year.

"I got both of them on alcohol consumption, and Austin Marks still has other charges pending. I can't get him on rape, but Indecent Liberties is still a class A felony … if they charge him as an adult. Newton got off because he didn't touch you."

"Mike wasn't going to do anything, Dad."

"He was gonna stand there and _watch_ ," Dad growls, his hands clenching into fists on the table.

I close my eyes, and it feels like Austin is right there in front of me—I can feel his breath on my face. "Dad, stop!"

I cover my chest with my arms, and the abrupt silence is deafening.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet and even. "I'm sorry, honey. I'll try not to bring it up again. I'm still … pretty angry about it—"

"Me too—"

"—but I … I don't want to make you go through it again. Since you're a minor, the statement you already gave is enough to prosecute. You won't have to go to court or anything."

 _Thank God._

"And that … boy won't be back at Forks High. His parents decided to pull him instead of dealing with the fallout and the conditions of the restraining order I put in place."

"That's—"

My phone pings, and I grab for it—Emmett hasn't yet responded to my morning barrage of questions.

 _Edward is MUCH better today. He's asking for you. Can you come?_

Are you fucking _kidding_ me? I would have been there every minute of the last three days if I could have!

"Dad, Edward's awake. I gotta go!"

I bolt from the room, grabbing keys and shoes as I fly through the house and out to my truck, and _holy shit, can't this thing go any faster?_

He's sitting up when I walk into the room, and my breath catches in sheer relief. It's beyond wonderful to see him awake and aware again.

He looks toward me at the sound of the door opening, and the smile that spreads across his face could outshine the sun. It doesn't matter that his right eye is still mostly swollen shut and the bruises on his cheeks and jaw are purplish-black and angry—it's the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

I smile back automatically, my joy at seeing him awake far outweighing the pain his appearance is causing me. I rush across the room, ready to throw myself into his arms, but at the last minute, I think better of it and screech to a halt at the side of his bed.

"If y-y-you were g-g-gonna hug me, d-d-don't stop," he says, and my arms are around him before I can even think to consider his injuries. He hisses in pain, but he pulls me closer at the same time.

I can't hold back the tears. It's my fault he's here and his face is broken and his speech is slurred. It's my fault he's having seizures and he can't remember what happened to him. It's my fault for running away and for humiliating Austin, and _oh, God, it's all my fault_!

I weep into his shoulder, and he holds me, his unsplinted hand rubbing circles on my back until I finally stop sobbing.

"I'm s-s-so s-s-sor-r-ry for l-l-ly—"

"No! _I'm_ sorry! I shouldn't have run after you said everything you did. I should have thrown my arms around you and told you I forgave you, but I was confused and overwhelmed. I ran so I could think about things, and I was on my way back to find you when they …" I can't finish the sentence, and I don't know what Edward remembers, but he holds me so close that I know he remembers something.

"S-s-so you b-b-believe me n-n-now? That I l-l-love y-y-you?"

"Yes! God, yes, I believe you! I should have never doubted you in the first place—I was so stupid! I love you _so_ much!"

We both hold on for dear life, and his sniffle lets me know I'm not the only one crying. Nothing has ever felt as right as this moment—even though so many things are fucked up, holding him is coming home after being gone way too long.

"The first thing you asked me after the fight was if I believed you, even though you were hurt and bleeding. Do you remember?"

"N-n-no."

He loosens his hold, and his eyes wander over me, taking in the still-purple bruise on my cheek and the stitches in my lower lip. A shadow crosses his face.

"Are y-y-you ok-k-kay?" he asks tenderly, and I know in that moment that no matter what he doesn't remember, he knows exactly what he's asking and what almost happened to me.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thanks to you," I tell him, squeezing his arms gently.

"G-g-g-good," he says, his eyes closing for a moment in relief.

"But I thought you didn't remember what happened?"

"I r-r-remember everything up to wh-wh-when I sh-shoved you through the g-g-gym d-d-door ... after that, there's n-n-nothing until I w-w-woke up here. I don't r-r-remember the f-f-fight at all."

"It's probably better that way," I tell him.

"They w-w-won't tell m-m-me about it," he says, his eyes searching mine.

 _That's because you got your ass kicked by two drunken assholes, and it was probably the stuff of nightmares._

"It doesn't matter what happened. Are _you_ okay?" I ask, my hand wandering toward the instrument on his head. It looks like a gaming headset, except instead of covering his ears, the white plastic bands curl behind them.

He frowns, but his eyes don't leave mine.

"EEG m-m-monitor. So the n-n-nurses know wh-wh-when I'm about to have a s-s-seizure." He huffs out a breath, so I save him the explanation.

"I know about the seizure in the ambulance and that you've had more since. They wouldn't let me in until you weren't so confused, or I would have been here every minute. I've been pestering the crap out of Emmett—"

"I'm s-s-sorry it took m-m-me so l-l-long to ask for y-y-you—"

"Edward, you were recovering from the worst seizure you've ever had! I'm just so glad you're better—"

"N-n-not compl-l-letely. My head is f-f-fucking killing m-m-m-e, and my sp-p-p—da-m-m-mit! I can't t-t-talk right. It's g-g-getting better, but …" His voice trails off and he rests his head back on his pillow, closing his eyes to try to hide the frustration I can so clearly see.

I sit beside him and hold his hand, and he's quiet for so long I'm beginning to wonder if he's fallen asleep. Suddenly, he breathes a heavy sigh, and when he opens his eyes, he looks more lost than I've ever seen him.

Icy dread closes around my heart, but I have to ask because I can see the fear in his eyes, and I made a promise to him, even if he didn't hear it, that he'd never be alone and afraid again.

"What is it?" I whisper.

"My epilepsy is c-c-completely out of c-c-control. I'm having m-m-multiple s-s-seizures a day, and they s-s-still have to s-s-stop them with m-m-medication. And … there's no w-w-warning anym-m-more. No 'little' s-s-seizures. I just f-f-feel the f-f-fear and—"

 _How will he know when to stay home from school?_

"But they'll come back, right? It's probably from the long seizure or the concussion, and once you've recovered—"

"M-m-maybe. It c-c-could be p-p-p-permanent."

"Oh, God." _His secret won't be a secret anymore if he can't predict the seizures._

"Edward," I say softly, tears I can't contain rolling down my cheeks as I reach out and gently caress the less bruised side of his face. He leans into the touch and closes his eyes. I didn't think my heart could break any more, but somehow it does, and I bite my lip to hold back a sob. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't run away—"

"N-n-no!" he asserts, opening his eyes and fixing me with his gaze. "Don't s-s-say that. I w-w-would have s-s-s-saved you from those g-g-guys no m-m-matter what, and if this is the p-p-price then I'll p-p-pay it.

"I l-l-l-ove you, Bella. There's n-n-nothing m-m-more important than y-y-you."

My heart soars in my chest, but there are so many feelings I don't know how to contain them. I lean forward—it takes Edward a second, but as soon as he realizes what I want to do, he raises his head—and our lips meet in a soft, gentle kiss.

The lump in my throat is a fucking grapefruit, and tears sting my eyes, but Edward just sighs in contentment. His guilt was absolved when I forgave him, but mine is painted in black and blue all over both of us, echoed in every slurred word he struggles to speak.

He pulls back and just looks at me, but I can't hold his gaze for long.

"When will they let you go home?"

"I d-d-don't know." The frown returns, and he lies back again, closing his eyes. "The s-s-seizures are s-s-still too frequent, and they w-w-won't let m-m-me go until I don't n-n-need b-b-benzos to s-s-stop them.

"I'm t-t-tired," he mutters, and fear and guilt and sadness collide in my chest as I realize how much effort it took for him to have this conversation with me and that he's still not completely back to normal. He didn't ask about charges against anyone for the fight, and I have no idea if he even knows Emmett was involved. His only concerns were to make sure I knew he loved me and that I was okay. _Fuck._

I keep my epiphanies to myself and hope that he won't notice the strain in my voice.

"Why don't you sleep for a while? I have to go get my stitches checked, but I can come back after."

He opens his eyes but doesn't lift his head. "You'll come b-b-back?"

"Of course, I will. I'll be here as much as I can."

"Okay," he answers as his eyes drift closed.

I leave his room quickly, hoping I can contain my emotions until I find a bathroom where I can break down, but Emmett is waiting for me right outside Edward's door.

"How was he?"

 _Christ._ I take a deep breath and do my best to pull myself together.

"He—wait, you haven't seen him?"

Emmett shakes his head grimly. "He hasn't asked for me yet, and Mom said he doesn't remember the fight, so my black eye will likely freak him out. They said he'll probably process stuff slower for a while. In his head, you know?"

I just nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

"I just need to know he's okay— _other_ than from a medical standpoint," Emmett says, a plea in his eyes. "Is he acting ... normal?"

I reach out and grip his arm. "He's ... getting there. We made up, and he really needed to know that I was okay after what happened in the gym."

Emmett's eyebrows go up, so I hasten to clarify. "He remembers up to when he pushed me out the gym doors."

"He did what?"

 _Oh, right. Emmett wouldn't know any of that, would he?_

"He came to the gym to find me and … and he got between Austin and me. He pushed me out the gym door, and it locked behind him, so he was alone in the gym with them. H-h-he told me to run …"

Emmett pulls me into his arms, and I go willingly. I've never had a big brother, but after watching Emmett with Edward, I know exactly what one should be.

"Holy fuck! I thought they started on _him_! I didn't realize—"

"He risked his life for me, and he knew it. He knew exactly what could happen if he fought, but he did it anyway. And now—"

"He's going to be all right, Bella. He's getting better every day and—"

"But what if the little seizures don't come back? He said that now he has no warning—"

"Fuck, Bella, I don't know."

"And what are we gonna tell everyone at school about why he's not there? And how and when is he gonna go back to school?"

"Bella—"

"This is all my fault, Emmett! Why didn't I just believe him back in January when he told me he loved me? Why didn't I go to him before he talked to Alice, or after? And why did I fucking _run away_ on Friday night when he bared his fucking soul to me? If I'd stayed, Austin wouldn't have … and Edward wouldn't be—"

"Hey, hey!" Emmett growls, shaking me a little in his arms. "It's done. You can't go back, even if you wanted to. Ed fucked up by not telling you the truth, and he knows it. He's got just as much to feel guilty for—"

"But I forgave him."

"Yes, and now you need to forgive yourself. You made what you thought were the best decisions at the time—none of us can do any more than that. I know he doesn't blame you for kicking his ass to the curb or for anything that's happened between the two of you since. He got what he deserved, but I'm so glad you believe that he loves you because he really does."

"I know. And I knew that before he risked his life for me. I just didn't get to tell him. If I hadn't run—"

"But you did. Forgive yourself, Bella. You made a mistake, but you can fix it—"

"I can't fix what happened to Edward."

"No, but it didn't happen because of your mistake. It happened because that fucking _asshole_ had such a hard-on for you! What if he'd gotten you alone and Edward hadn't been there?"

"Jesus, Emmett—"

"Wouldn't Edward be feeling the guilt you're feeling right now, or worse? And then I'd be telling _him_ to forgive himself because none of us can see the future. He loves you, and you love him—does any of the rest of it matter?"

His words echo in my head, but in Edward's voice—from the day he first told me he loved me in the hallway of the school, the pain of his broken hand and our shattered hearts still raw and jagged.

They're so different, yet so alike in the ways that matter. And they're right.

"No, none of the rest of it matters," I tell him, and for the first time since Friday, I actually believe it a little bit. It'll take some time, but the weight of guilt already feels lighter in my chest. "Except for him getting better."

"Right," Emmett says, nodding decisively.

"Thanks, Emmett." The words are nowhere near adequate, but Emmett's smirk tells me he knows what I mean.

He gives me a little squeeze before letting me go. "So, what _are_ we going to tell everyone at school tomorrow?"

* * *

A/N: He's okay! Sort of. Some decisions have consequences, even if they're the right decisions. This would be so much easier if all of Forks High wasn't abuzz wondering what happened, wouldn't it? Chapter 41 will post on June 13!


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

" **The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."  
― H. P. Lovecraft**

 **Bella**

"OhmyGodBella!"

The Gothlet damn near knocks me over as she slams into my chest, but her firm hold actually feels good and makes me forget about all the eyes that are following me. At least, for a moment.

She holds me by the shoulders and takes in my purplish-green cheek and the scab on my lip, and her own twist into an angry frown.

"Why didn't you call me back? I would have—"

"—knifed someone for me? The police had it covered this time, Alice." I try to smile and roll with the joke, but there are tears in the corners of Alice's eyes. _Oh, shit, I didn't know Goth girls could cry! I didn't think they came with tear ducts!_

"What happened, Bella?" Angela asks, putting a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes hold no reproach, and she's more emotionally stable than The Gothlet is right now—she'll be the one I look at when I tell this story.

I can hear the rustle of books moving in and out of lockers, but it's distant—everyone around us is moving slowly and quietly while trying not to look me in the eye. _Nosy fuckers._ But if some of the school hears the actual story from me, maybe the rumors won't be quite so outlandish.

Jasper meets my eyes, and it gives me the extra little bit of courage I need to begin.

I look at Angela the whole time, as if she's the only one I'm talking to, and she does a great job of keeping her emotions in check when I stumble over the harder parts. I speak in general terms of what Austin did. Everyone can see my bruises, and I can't even think through that part without shaking and crying—I won't go back there unless the police make me and only if they need something clarified in order to nail his ass.

"—and everyone ended up in the ER."

You could hear a pin drop in the hallway when I finish. It feels like an eternity until someone gets up the balls to ask a question.

"Is Austin in jail?" one of the senior girls asks, and I can tell from the sneer on her face that she believes he should be.

"I don't know. He's facing charges, and he won't be coming back to school, but I don't know where he is now."

"Good riddance," another girl declares, and a few others nod. _Wow. No one ever said anything like this about Austin before._

"What about Edward?" Jasper asks, and my heart lurches painfully in my chest. _If only I wouldn't have run!_ The lump in my throat is growing, and I can't hold Jasper's gaze, but my eyes fall on Emmett at the back of the crowd. He nods at me, and I feel like I'm borrowing some of his strength, believing what he believes about me and what happened. _Forgive yourself, Bella._

"He's still in the hospital. He has a concussion, and there were complications, but hopefully, he'll be back soon." My answer is part-lie and part-wish—Dr. Cullen helped us with the cover, and no one has any idea when Edward will be discharged.

The crowd starts to disperse, but my friends gather closer. The Gothlet has had her arm around me since I started talking, and she gives me a squeeze.

"I don't even know what to say, Bella. Edward came and found me when you ran from him, and I told him to go after you. If I hadn't done that …"

 _Edward would be fine, and I'd be a rape victim._ I've thought about this so many times I've given myself headaches, and even though I'd go back and trade my free will to prevent Edward's seizure every time, if given a choice, it doesn't matter. It's done, and I need to focus on what _is_ and not what could have been.

"Edward saved me," I tell her. "I shouldn't have run, but we've talked since and everything's okay. I love him and he loves me, and that's all that matters."

The Gothlet and Angela smile at me and elbow each other giddily, but I can't join in—not with Edward in the state he's in. He's still fighting to get things back to normal, and I can't relax until we get there.

"Can we go visit him?" Jasper asks, and I'm struck dumb for a moment. "While he's in the hospital?"

I'm about to shake my head, but … maybe this is a good idea. Maybe it's the best idea of all.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

 **Edward**

"Edward Cullen."

"And what day is it?"

I roll my eyes at the nurse and heave a frustrated sigh. I've had a few hours here and there where my head wasn't killing me, but now isn't one of them, and the pounding in my skull is making me really fucking irritable.

"Edward?"

"Tuesday, F-f-february eighteenth."

"And where are you?"

"Do w-w-we have to do this?"

Mom raises an eyebrow at me. "Do you realize that two days ago, you had trouble answering these questions?"

I stop to think for a minute, and Sunday is pretty hazy. Saturday I don't remember at all, although Mom told me I was awake off and on—yesterday is the first day since Friday that I can honestly say I remember everything that happened. I think. _I guess I should shut the fuck up and answer her questions._

"I'm in the hospital because some assholes b-b-beat me up, and I had a massive s-s-seizure."

"Good enough," the nurse says, nodding and giving me a smile, but I can't return it. Yesterday was all about seeing Bella and making sure she was okay, but today, I'm more than a little worried about me.

I can see a little bit out of my right eye, but it's still really swollen. I re-broke my hand on Austin's fucking face, but at least it wasn't all the bones, so my hand is only in a splint this time. My ribs ache and my face and head are just one big throbbing center of pain, but I'm trying to resist asking for more meds because I know they'll make me sleepy. I'm exhausted, even though all I've done is lie in bed since Friday—the seizures are knocking me out for hours at a time because they're causing so much neural activity. I've had eleven since the big one on Friday night, and five of them have been while I was sleeping. That's never happened before. And they're not stopping on their own. That's never happened before either.

But the worst part, the part that scares the fuck out of me when I even think about it, let alone when it actually happens, is that the big seizures, the grand mals, now come without any warning. I haven't had a myoclonic seizure in more than two weeks, and although I never could have imagined a situation that would make me feel this way, I'd give anything to have them back. Having a big seizure sucks, but having a few hours' notice so you can stay home from school, make sure you're somewhere safe and private when it happens? I never appreciated what a blessing that was until now.

Now, when it's gone and all I'll have is ninety seconds of sheer terror to prepare for what's about to happen to me. I can hardly move in those precious few seconds, let alone get myself somewhere out of sight— _how the hell am I going to go back to school?_

 _The myoclonics will come back—they have to. Everything will go back to the way it was before._

I'm so lost in my own head that I don't hear the nurse and Mom leave, and I jump a fucking mile when someone touches my arm.

I whip my head up, but I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the pain so it takes me a minute to figure out it's Emmett.

 _Where the fuck has he been?_

I realize with a start that I haven't seen him since before all this happened, and I didn't even think to ask Mom or Dad about him. _Fuck._ I know I'm not back to normal yet because I'm not thinking of everything I should be—it's like I can only focus on one thing at a time, and so far, it's been Bella and how fucked up I am.

 _But why hasn't he been here to see me?_ A combination of frustration and hurt washes over me, and confusion joins the party when I get a good look at him. There's bruising under his left eye and scratches on his nose and chin. He smiles at me, but his eyes hold the pity I used to see there, and it pisses me right the fuck off.

"Hi," he says as he takes a seat next to me. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands, and he's looking anywhere but at me.

"Where the _fuck_ have you b-b-been?" I spit at him, my stress and agitation finally finding an outlet. "I'm in the hospital for days and y-y-you don't even come to s-s-see me? And w-w-what the hell happened to your face?"

Emmett recoils as if I've struck him, and I immediately feel like an ass, but I'm too angry at _every fucking thing_ to take back my words.

He closes his eyes, and I can see he's trying to calm himself, but that just makes me even angrier.

"Well?"

And that's Emmett's breaking point. When he raises his head, he's glaring at me, and his reply is harsh and loud.

"What the fuck happened to my face? The same thing that happened to yours, except I gave more punches than I took."

My mouth drops open in shock, and all my anger is sucked away as if by vacuum. I know I took on Mike and Austin by myself, but I assumed they kicked my ass and left me lying there—no one told me any different.

"And I _have_ been here, asshole! I've been here every fucking minute I could, waiting outside that door because the doctors thought it best for you not to see my fucked up face because it might upset you! I've been dying to be in here, but they wouldn't let me until you asked for me or you were doing better."

Emmett buries his face in his hands, and I want to crawl under the bed because I am the biggest douche on the face of the planet.

 _He fought those assholes for me, and I didn't even ask to see him._

My cheeks heat with shame, and I feel like the scum of the earth. I should have known there was a good reason Emmett wasn't here, but instead of thinking or asking, I just flew off the handle and blasted him. _Jesus._

"Fuck, Em, I _am_ an asshole. I don't remem-m-mber the fight, and no one told me you w-w-were even there. And … I'm s-s-still not thinking clearly. I c-c-can only focus on one thing at a t-t-time, and I j-j-just … I didn't even think to ask about y-y-you. I'm so fucking s-s-sorry."

Em's face crumples with each word I say, and by the time I'm finished, his eyes are watery and bright. He pulls me into a bear hug and holds me there, and even though it puts pressure on my aching ribs, I hold on just as tight as he does.

"Those bastards! You were on the ground when I got there—I had to make them stop!"

My heart aches, but not for me—I don't remember any of this, but Emmett will see me lying on the ground beaten and bloody for a long time to come, I just know it.

"Thank you. I'm s-s-sorry you had to—"

"No," he says, pulling back to meet my eyes. "It took a lot of balls to do what you did, knowing what could happen to you—"

"I couldn't l-l-let him hurt Bella—"

"Of course, you couldn't! And I couldn't let them hurt you. But I was too late …"

"I'll be fine, Em. And even if I'm n-n-not, Bella's w-w-worth it."

Emmett smiles, and it's a real one this time. "She is."

"Have y-y-you talked to her?" She told me she was okay yesterday, but she could have been faking it so I wouldn't get upset.

"Yeah, she's okay. She blames herself for you getting hurt, but I told her it wasn't her fault. She's at school today, but Austin won't be going back, and Mike is suspended, so she'll be fine."

He sits beside me, and I turn his words over in my head. "Why aren't y-y-you at school?"

"I'm suspended too. For fighting on school property. I found out when I got there this morning. You probably would be too if you weren't in here," Em replies, shaking his head.

I know I should be asking him more questions, but my head is thumping, and I'm getting sleepy again. "Is there anything else I should know?" I ask, laying my head back.

Em's quiet for a minute, and I'm just about to open my eyes to see if he's still there when he answers me.

"Austin's facing charges for what he did to Bella, but no one else is in trouble with the cops."

"Good," I reply, but I know I'm losing the battle with my eyelids. If I just weren't so fucking tired all the time, I could think better.

I hear the TV come on, and the scraping of Emmett's chair against the floor as he angles it toward the screen. I think I'll just rest for a bit …

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

Fingers are running through my hair, and I lift my chin to lean farther into the touch.

"Mom?"

"No …"

My eyes fly open—well, one does, anyway—and Bella is sitting beside me, smirking. And just like that, everything is right in my world. She loves me, and she forgave me. I wish things hadn't gone down the way they did, but as long as she's mine again, I feel like I can survive the rest of it.

I glance at the window—it's getting dark outside. "What time is it?"

"Well, hello to you too," she teases, and I feel my cheeks heat, but she just grins even wider. "It's 6 PM. Emmett told me you had a seizure in your sleep this afternoon, so you've been out ever since."

"Fuck," I mumble, closing my eyes. My headache is dull, but I can feel that not-quite-right sensation that lingers after a seizure. _When is this shit gonna stop?_

"Did they have to stop it with m-m-meds?"

"I don't know," Bella answers, frowning. "Is that important?"

"Yeah. S-s-seizures that stop on their own are my ticket out of here."

"I can go find out—"

"No, that's okay. I'll ask later," I tell her, not wanting to think about it anymore. Right now, I really want to do something normal, like kiss the shit out of my newly re-girlfriended girlfriend, but there are a few things I have to do first.

I throw the covers back from the bed, and Bella covers her face with a gasp. _What the fuck?_ I laugh for the first time in days, even though I have to wrap my arm around my chest to support my broken rib. _Ow!_

"Bella, I'm not _naked_."

She lowers her hands so I can see her eyes, but I can also see the color flooding her cheeks.

"I didn't _know_!" she exclaims, and her hand flashes out and smacks my shoulder as if we were just goofing around like we used to in my room, and it's the best feeling in the world.

She looks like she's gonna apologize, but I shake my head a little, and she smiles and warmth spreads outward from my chest.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I'd like to get up and use the bathroom, among other things."

I don't miss her glance at my left arm, and her brow furrows. "Are you allowed?"

I lift my arm to give her a better look. "Were you checking out my jewelry, Bella? The hospital was nice enough to add to my collection."

I'm wearing the standard white hospital ID bracelet, but my regular very discrete medical bracelet has been replaced by a blue silicone band that says "Alert! Epilepsy" in red capital letters, and I'm also sporting a fluorescent yellow plastic one that says "Fall Risk". There's no hiding anything in here, and my arm looks like a fucking party.

She blushes again, and I fucking love it. God, I've missed just messing around with her.

"If I yell for you, will you c-c-come help me?"

"Of course!"

 _Please don't let me have to yell for her to come help me._

"Well, then I can get up," I tell her, although in all honesty, I haven't done this without a nurse yet. _Oh well, there's always a first time for everything._

I raise the head of the bed as much as I can and gingerly swing my legs over the side. My ribs protest and everything spins for a minute, so I sit and make sure everything stays where it belongs before I try standing.

Once I'm on my feet, the rest is easy, but I stumble to a halt when I hear Bella whistle behind me. I'm not naked, but I'm only in a hospital gown and boxers, and the breeze on my lower back tells me my ass is quite visible.

"Nice ass!" she calls, and I keep going and shut the door behind me. I want to be freshened up and back out there kissing her as fast as humanly possible.

I take care of business and put paste on my toothbrush, but I stop dead when I raise my eyes to my reflection in the mirror. I haven't really looked at myself since I've been here. _Holy mother of fuck ..._

I knew my eye was swollen, but the bruising on my face is spectacular. My nose is taped, so I can't see the damage there, and the stitches above my eyebrow are black and ugly. The EEG monitor on my head makes me look like a fucking freak— _exactly why the hell was I thinking Bella would want to kiss me?_

My semi-good mood takes a nosedive, and although I have no motivation now, I finish brushing my teeth and trudge back to my bed with my head down.

"Edward, what happened?"

She's on her feet and at my side in a flash, but all I want in this moment is to be alone.

"Bella, I—"

"What's that smell?" She moves closer and goes on her tip-toes, putting herself right in front of my face. "Did you just brush your teeth?"

"Yeah—"

"Can I kiss you?"

Her request floors me. Now that I know what I look like, my libido is cowering in a corner somewhere—I can't imagine why she'd want to put her lips on any part of me.

"Why? I look like someone should put me out of my misery."

Bella shakes her head slowly and gathers my hands into hers. She walks us backward until my knees hit the bed, and she waits patiently while I sit down with a pained grunt. She stands in front of me, and now that my face is easier to reach, she cradles my cheeks in her hands.

"You're my hero," she whispers, and she begins to brush her lips over where I now know there are bruises.

Her kisses are feather-light and cause me no pain, and the ache in my chest that began when I looked in the mirror starts to ease a bit. A lump rises in my throat as I try to swallow down everything I'm feeling in this moment, and I realize a few tears have escaped when her lips press the wetness to my face.

"I love you, Edward," she murmurs, and my arms slide around her waist as I pull her between my legs. My lips find hers and I kiss her, softly at first, but I can't hold back what I'm feeling, and soon, my tongue is tangled with hers, trying to tell her everything my fumbling words never could.

We kiss until my nose brushes hers and I wince, immediately sorry that my discomfort interrupted the best thing I've done since we made love all those weeks ago.

"I love you so much," I say, resting my forehead against hers. I want to thank her for making me feel this way, but I don't know how. Maybe she just knows. God, I hope she does.

Warm brown eyes meet mine, and I feel a stirring in my groin. That's the first time that country's been heard from in quite some time—I was worried I was a fucking eunuch now.

But now's not the time—my head is starting to pound again and my ribs are aching. I should probably lie down if I don't wanna have another fucking seizure.

"Are you okay?"

I wanna tell her yeah, but suddenly, I feel like shit.

"Headache," I say, and it seems I don't need to elaborate.

"Lie down," she says softly, and she lifts the blankets so I can slip my feet under them. Once I'm settled, she returns to the chair next to me and takes my hand.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and my aching head takes my thoughts right back to my fucked up situation— _when the hell will I get to leave here and what happens then_?

I sigh heavily, and Bella squeezes my hand.

"You _are_ getting better, you know. Emmett told me you only had one seizure last night and one so far today, and your speech is better than it was yesterday."

… _And I just tipped her off that I'm wallowing. Crap._

"It's not f-f-fast enough. And what the hell am I g-g-going to do about school? Holy fuck, what d-d-does everyone _think_ happened to me?" It's the first time that thought's even occurred to me, and the realization sends a spike of anxiety down my spine—I'm still not thinking and processing things the way I should be.

"Emmett and I told them you had complications from a concussion. Your dad came up with it, and no one questioned it when we told them."

 _So my secret is still a secret._ I should be overjoyed that my illness is still hidden, but instead, my chest starts to feel tight. The weight of lie upon lie feels like it's crushing me— _I almost wish_ …

I gasp in shock as the realization nearly overwhelms me. _I almost wish everyone had found out, and I had no choice but to deal with it._

I say nothing to Bella—I can't even wrap my own mind around what's going on in my head, let alone explain it to her.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?" I open my eyes, and she's looking at me warily.

"As soon as I told him what happened and that you were still in the hospital, Jasper asked if he could come see you, and Alice, Ang, and Ben said they wanted to come too."

I just stare at her as I think it over. I'd have to hide my epilepsy bracelet, but I could explain away the EEG monitor. As long as I didn't have a seizure right in front of them, there's no reason they'd have to know.

A part of me feels so weary at the thought of the lies I'll have to tell, but I ignore the nagging feeling. _After all, what choice do I have?_

"Edward?"

"Um, yeah. I'd like to s-s-see everyone." _Fuck! My speech is still a bit slurred. I'll have to explain that away too._

"Are you sure?" Bella asks, eyeing me thoughtfully.

"Yes. I'll have to hide this,"—I gesture to my bracelet—"but I c-c-can explain the rest."

Bella's brow furrows for a moment, but while I'm trying to figure out why, her expression clears.

"Okay, I'll tell them they can come whenever you're ready," she says, but her smile isn't the one I'm used to. Something is off, but my head is pounding, and I'm too fucking tired to try to figure it out right now. I'll have to ask her later.

* * *

A/N: Up and down and right back where we started? Chapter 42 will post on June 27!


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

" **Fear is a powerful beast. But we can learn to ride it."  
― Justine Musk**

 **Edward**

This morning, there's a big meeting in my room. Mom and Dad, my neurologist, the orthopedist, the plastics guy, the speech therapist—pretty much everybody who's been working on putting me back together is there, and the news is pretty good.

My stitches will be coming out tomorrow, and I can lose the nose cast by the weekend. My rib is healing well, and my speech is improving every day. My fucking hand will be splinted for at least six more weeks, but I'm not really surprised. I know I'm still not thinking as clearly as I did before, but I've passed the neurological exam for three days in a row now, so Dr. Sutton is happy with my progress. But the best news is that I had no seizures last night. The frequency is going down rapidly—now if they'd just stop on their own like they used to, I could go home.

"There's only one more thing we need to discuss, Edward," Dr. Sutton says, but she's looking at my dad.

Dad nods and swallows like he's preparing for something, and my stomach drops like I'm on Goliath at Six Flags.

"I know you've asked the residents if the myoclonic seizures will ever come back, and the answer is we really don't know. But we know that if they do return, it won't be in the same pattern as before. The trauma and subsequent status epilepticus you experienced resulted in changes in your baseline EEG pattern. Changes in your brain's electrical activity are not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case, the changes mean you won't have the myoclonic seizures to warn you of a future tonic-clonic seizure."

I don't understand everything she said, but I'm pretty sure what she means is that my days of having a warning before the big seizures are over.

"So … no more warnings before the big s-s-seizures? Just the fear and then a minute or two later …"

"Yes, Edward. Just the way it's been for you this week. You'll still have the aura, but you'll need to make some changes in your school seizure action plan—"

 _No more warning._

I'd known it was possible, and I thought I could handle it, but the words hit my chest like a cinder block.

Suddenly, there's no air and I'm gasping.

Panic coils around me like a python, squeezing my chest as cold sweat covers my body. My stomach cramps violently, but I couldn't vomit if I tried—my throat is completely closed.

"Edward, you've got to breathe!"

Dad's voice is distant—soft compared to the roaring in my ears and the pounding of my heart.

"We're going to have to—"

Terror devours the panic, and I arch my back against the sudden change in sensation. Hands grip me, but all I can focus on is trying not to scream as the horrible overload pulls me into darkness.

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I wake slowly—sore and aching and devastated. For once, it takes me no time to figure out I had a seizure and what caused it. _What in the holy mother of fuck am I gonna do now?_

How can I go back to school? I don't have a lot of known triggers for my seizures, but stress is a fucking huge one, and there's no way I could get within a mile of that building without losing my goddamn mind with fear.

Fear of everyone finding out who I really am.

Fear of them finding out that _I'm_ the one with the best reason to be avoided and ridiculed.

Fear of becoming the thing I worked so hard and did unspeakably awful things to avoid: a pariah.

A time bomb.

Someone people look at with trepidation and pity, or worse, superiority.

Waiting for me to explode.

Less than human.

A broken boy with no future.

I've fought so hard not to be Edward the epileptic, but this illness clings to me like a second skin. I used to be able to obscure it in a cloak of lies, but now I'm naked, and everyone will see the real me—afflicted and infected with this disease that bends me to its will time and time again.

I hate it.

And I let that hate and self-loathing consume me for the rest of the day.

I text Bella before her school day ends and tell her I'm not up for company today. She doesn't freak like I expect her to, so I suspect Emmett already knows what went down and he's talked to her.

Psych shows up, but I want nothing to do with that bullshit—deep breathing and visualization of my happy place is not gonna stop me from having a seizure in the middle of the fucking school, nor is it going to improve my mood right now.

Mom and Dad drift in and out, but I pretend to be asleep whenever they're in the room, and they leave me alone. By dinner time, I think they're on to me—they leave right after my tray comes so I can try to eat in peace.

I have zero appetite, but the only way out of here is for my seizures to return to "normal", so I have to do everything possible to encourage that.

I choke down what I can, then buzz the nurse and ask for more pain meds. God knows they owe me some—I've been avoiding the narcotics all week so I could actually stay awake for a few hours. But right now, all I want to do is obliviate myself for a while. Maybe this is all just one horrible nightmare that I'll wake up from if I try hard enough, if I want it bad enough. A guy can hope, right?

The next morning, Mom and Dad start in: How am I feeling about this? Do I want to talk about options?

It takes every ounce of restraint I have not to be a completely disrespectful ass. How the fuck do they think I'm feeling? The one thing that was barely holding the charade that was my life together just disappeared like a fart in the wind. I think it's safe to say I'm pretty fucking wrecked.

 _Options?_

"What do you m-m-mean, options?"

"Well, the way I see it, you have two," Dad says, completely in doctor-mode. "You either go back to school, and we adjust your seizure action plan to fit your change in situation, or we look into options for homeschooling."

"I could work with you to finish out the year, and if that goes well, we could do the same for your senior year. Or, we could look for a tutor for you," Mom says cheerfully.

 _So, I either let my freak flag fly or become a total recluse. Fucking fabulous._

"Edward, I think you should consider—"

"Let me guess—going b-b-back to school and letting everyone see what a freak I am?"

"People live with epilepsy every day. Not everyone is lucky enough to have warnings like you did—"

"What, s-s-so I should be fucking grateful that I had the fucked-up situation I did, instead of this one, which is even m-m-more fucked up?"

"You've kept this a secret for three years now. Maybe it's time—"

"No."

"But—"

"No. No! _No_!" I'm breathing faster, and it's starting to feel like there's not enough air in the room. "Just, _go_! Leave me the fuck alone!" I roar, curling my legs up to my chest as best I can.

 _Breathe. Just breathe. Push it all away and don't have another fucking panic attack. Don't have another fucking seizure. Control it, for once. Just breathe._

I shut everything out—my parents, the hospital, every fucked-up thought in my head except for the feel of Bella's lips on mine the other night. It seems like it takes forever, but my breathing finally slows, and when I collapse back onto the mattress, I realize I'm alone.

I'm so fucked.

Homeschooling? That would mean no Bella.

 _But you could still see her evenings and weekends._

Yeah, but she'd be at school every day with all those other assholes— _no fucking way! I'm not letting her alone there after what Austin did! Especially once Emmett's gone._

And how would that look anyway, if I never came back to school? _Edward got his ass kicked, and he was too chicken to come back._ Yeah, that's not gonna fly.

But how in the hell do I go back? I could have a seizure at any moment, then everyone would know what a fucking freak I am. I have no trouble picturing that scenario—me falling down in front of the whole student body, pissing myself if I'm really unlucky, and I can see what comes next even better.

Waking up surrounded by people who are now afraid of me.

Staring at me like I'm gonna fall down and convulse at any moment.

Tiptoeing around me because they can't treat me the way they used to—one wrong word or look and I'll crumble before their eyes.

Fragile. Weak. Other.

Different. People avoid different because they don't understand it. The easiest thing to do with it is pretend it doesn't exist. Keep it over _there_ where it can't interfere with their lives.

The weight of deceit is heavy, but the weight of judgement is so much worse. I've felt it already from those closest to me, and it changed me, broke down my ability to cope—I can't.

I just. Fucking. _Can't_.

My chest aches, and it has nothing to do with my broken rib. _There's no way out._ I'm too wrecked to even panic—that would take energy I just don't have.

I curl in on myself and wish for nothing, wish for all of it to go away.

And it does … for a while.

When I wake, Emmett is beside me, but I'm so low I can't bring myself to care.

"I thought you were gonna sleep the day away," he says, not glancing up from his phone.

"That's m-m-my plan, so fuck off." There's no heat in my words—they're flat and monotone.

"Can't do that, bro. We need to talk."

"There's n-n-nothing to talk about. I'm fucked. There's no way out—"

"That's not true, and you know it. Edward, you need to tell your friends about your epilepsy, and you need to go back to school."

I sigh in exasperation, and when I open my eyes, he's leaning forward, staring me down. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't? Of course, you can! It'll suck for a week or two, but then things will go back to normal."

I snort derisively. "Things will _never_ go back to normal."

"Of course, they will! You think everyone in that school cares that much about _you_? Once everyone knows, it'll be old news as soon as the next girl fucks and tells."

"Emmett, you d-d-don't understand."

"What? What don't I understand? I think _you_ don't understand what all this lying is doing to you. It almost lost you Bella, for Christ's sake, and you want to continue on with it? How the fuck would you do it now anyway? You could have a seizure at any moment—how the hell are you gonna lie your way out of that one?"

"I'm n-n-not! I _can't_! I told you I'm fucked! I d-d-don't know what the fucking hell I'm going to do!" My mind spins the problem again and again, and I start to breathe faster. _There's no way out._

"You're right. I don't understand. All I see right now is a coward who won't man up to his own problems."

Emmett's words pierce me like knives, the pain cutting deep into my heart. Tears sting my eyes, and I have to gasp around the painful lump in my throat. But suddenly, it's as if a switch has flipped, and everything I'm feeling—the hurt from his words, all the pain and confusion and hopelessness—all of it turns to seething, white-hot anger.

And I explode.

"I am _not_ a _coward_! I've faced these s-s-seizures for years, and you know _nothing_ about it! The aura is terror like I've never known, and then I w-w-wake up wanting to cut off my own fucking head and having to figure out what the fuck happened! Could _you_ live with that again and again and _again_? I gave up b-b-basketball for this! And driving! And my b-b-best friends! I gave up _everything_ I fucking cared about until Bella came along, and I almost had to g-g-give her up too!

"Do you know what it's like to have people treat you like you're a time b-b-bomb? No, you fucking don't, and _you're_ one of the people who d-d-did it to me! You and Mom made me so twitchy, now I have p-p-panic attacks! But I made it through all that! Could you, Emmett? F-f-fuck …"

I trail off because there's no more air, and I'm startled when Emmett grabs me by the shoulders.

"Breathe, Edward. Bella's coming a little later—think about that. How pretty she is and how she smiles at you. Focus on her face and just breathe."

Emmett's gaze is boring into me, but I close my eyes and Bella appears. Emmett's rubbing my shoulders, and it helps to ground me, but I pretend it's Bella soothing me. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, I calm down and sag against the mattress.

Emmett sits down heavily and blows out a breath. "You're right. You're not a coward. You did do all those things, and you can do this too. Of the two of us, you're the stronger one. You amaze me because I know I could never handle this even half as well as you do. I would have crumbled long ago, but _you_ don't. You keep going. You're not a coward, and that's how I know you can tell your friends about this and let them support you. I know, I _know,_ Jazz will be right by your side, and so will Alice and the others. They won't let you down, and if you have them, then fuck the rest of the world. We'll help you—all of us.

"You're not only Bella's hero, you're mine too, and I want …" Em pauses and looks down, and when he looks up again, there are tears shining in his eyes. "I want you to be happy, and … and I need to know you're gonna be okay when I'm not here next year."

Em's words deflate my anger, and I feel … empty—exhausted and spent. Tears roll down my cheeks, and I don't even fucking care.

"Em, I … I really d-d-don't think I can," I whisper, curling on my side, and it feels as if my whole body is sagging under the weight of it all.

"You can, but you can't do it by yourself. Let. People. In. You let Bella in, and it was okay—it'll be the same for Jasper and Alice and Angela and Ben. You need people you can count on now, and you're lucky that you have some.

"Now that you can have a seizure at any time with no warning, you're going to need to always have someone with you who can help. Bella and I can't be there every minute, but if you let the others in, they can be there for you when we can't."

He looks down, studying his hands, which are folded on the side of my bed.

"I can't even imagine how hard this is for you, but like I said, you're my hero, and I know you can do it. And … I'm sorry for calling you a coward. I just wanted you to realize how strong you are, and I … I hope it worked."

I reach over and cover his hands with my splinted one. I don't say anything because I have nothing left, but I know he can see my forgiveness in my eyes because he smiles a little. I'm so fucking tired I pass out right away, but somewhere in my dreams, I hear, "Please let it have worked."

 _ ** _¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)_**_

I don't get to sleep long. An hour later, some nurse comes and manhandles me, and my mind goes right back to the mess that is my life.

I'm just … tired.

I'm so fucking tired of being in a situation I can't control, and now, it's more uncontrollable than ever.

I'm tired of trying to control it. Emmett's right—the lies have taken their toll on everything I was, to the point that I don't even really _know_ who I am anymore. All I am is a pile of lies, stacked like sandbags to protect myself from a flood that came anyway, and now the lies are useless. They can't protect me anymore, if they ever really could.

I'm terrified. The thought of everyone finding out makes my stomach roll, and I have no idea how to deal with it. But I really don't see how I have any choice. A huge part of me just wants to hide away from the world, but I can't let that part take control because I know I'll lose Bella too.

There's a tentative knock at my door, and a few seconds later, Bella peaks around it. Even though I feel as if I've been through a war today, her smile ignites a comforting warmth in my chest, and I feel just a little bit better.

"Rough day?" she asks as she walks across the room and seats herself on the edge of my bed.

"Yeah," I answer, my voice breaking at the end, and her arms are around me, and she's pulling my head down onto her shoulder before I even realize she's doing it.

She's warm and so soft, and even though it hurts my ribs, I pull her close to me, soaking in all the comfort I can get.

"I'm sorry the little seizures aren't coming back," she whispers into my neck, and I completely fucking lose it, unable to control the agony I'm feeling. She gently rubs my back as I sob into her shoulder, whispering, "I love you" and "It'll be okay" over and over until my sorrow is spent.

"I'm s-s-sorry," I say into her shirt, but I can feel her shake her head.

"You've been through so much this week. I can't even imagine what you're feeling. But I'm glad you love me enough not to hide it from me," she says, and the sharp sting of my embarrassment for crying like a bitch fades away into nothing.

"I don't know how I'm going to d-d-do this."

"Well, you're not going to do it alone," she says, pulling away but only far enough so she can meet my eyes. "I made you a promise. You don't know about it because I never got the chance to tell you that night at the dance, but I promised you'd never be alone and afraid again. I can't control the afraid, but I can promise you'll never, _ever_ be alone."

I curl back into her shoulder and hold her tight, unable to tell her with words how much that means to me—how much _she_ means to me.

"Edward, I know you're afraid everyone is going to look at you like you're a bomb ready to explode, but I don't think that's true. Some will, but the people who really matter won't, and aren't those the important ones anyway?

"The loss of control you have to endure from the seizures just breaks my heart, and you can't control how other people react to you, but you _can_ control how _you_ react to _them_. You can ignore anyone who's asshole enough to give you shit about this, and you can trust and rely on the people who care about you.

"Jasper and Alice and Angela and Ben—they care about you. They're worried, and they've asked about you every day, and I keep putting them off, but they can tell something is seriously wrong. Let them in. Let them be the good friends to you that they truly want to be—let them show you what you mean to them.

"Start there, Edward. If you let them in, they're going to stand by you if something happens when you go back to school. They're going to support you. I know it. You'll see."

"Bella, I'm s-s-so scared." It's the most honest thing I've ever said in my life, and I've never felt more vulnerable … but … it's okay because she loves me, and I can feel it in the way her arms tighten around me.

"I know you are, but you're also so very brave. Being brave doesn't mean you're not afraid, you know. It means going on _even though_ you're afraid. That's what you did when you found out you had epilepsy, and that's what you did when I found out your secret. You go on, Edward. It's who you are."

More tears escape down my cheeks, but they're not borne of desolation.

 _It's who I am. Maybe Bella sees me more clearly than I see myself._

"Can you ask Jasper and everyone to c-c-come tomorrow after school?" I ask. I'm still terrified, but Bella's right—I need to go on. Maybe it won't be so bad if I'm not alone.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"Everything," I answer, even though my heart stutters in my chest. "Will you c-c-come too?"

"Of course, I will!" Bella exclaims, pulling back to look at me. "I'm _so_ proud of you, Edward. I just know you can do this, and you're going to feel so much better after you do."

"I hope so," I mutter just as her lips brush mine, and I let go of everything but the sweetness of her kiss.

 _I really hope I can do this._

* * *

A/N: Do you think he can do it? Chapter 43 will post on July 11!

I posted this in my group after last chapter—read on if you'd like some detailed discussion of Edward's character. OOOkay. I've seen enough of this in the reviews that I feel like I need to explain a bit here. YES, Edward NEEDS to tell everyone about his seizures because his old plan is no longer going to work and he needs to have this weight lifted from his heart and soul.

But this Edward is a worrier with a lot of anxiety, and he's built this up so that in his mind it's almost impossible to do. To you or me, it's a no brainer, but to him, it's the hardest thing he'll ever do. You're all reacting to a flaw in his character, and I realize that, but I want you to realize it too. This is not a flaw in my writing. I'm not beating a dead horse, I'm not dragging this out. This is intentional, because this is what happens when someone with anxiety tackles their worst fear. Ever been there? I have, although I'm not sure what my worst fear is, but I've tackled some big ones.

I'm not upset with the reviews I'm getting, but I want you all to realize that you're SUPPOSED to be frustrated at this point. Edward is making Mount Everest out of what to us is a mole hill, but that's who he is. And if and when he overcomes it, it'll be that much sweeter because it's such a big deal for him. I hope this makes sense. Thanks for sticking with me.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

" **Do the thing you fear most and the death of fear is certain."  
― Mark Twain**

 **Bella**

 _It worked. It worked! It actually worked!_

I have no idea what Emmett said to Edward, and I actually feel a bit bad about it if it's what led to Edward breaking down like that, but whatever happened between them, it went a long way to convincing Edward that he needs to put an end to his secret.

My heart aches for him—he's so broken right now after the fight and the change in his condition—to have to put himself under even more stress by telling everyone is just torture, but there seems to be no way around it.

I make the arrangements with everyone at school, but I ask them to come around four. I want to get there first and make sure Edward's … _oh, hell, I don't know because I'm sure he's gonna be a wreck_. I just want a few moments alone with him first.

When I walk into his room, my eyes zero in on his face, and he's ashen, his breathing slow but deliberate, and he's clutching Esme's hand as if his life depends on it.

"Bella!" Esme greets me, but Edward just gulps down a breath and closes his eyes—my arrival means everyone else will be here soon.

"Hi, Esme."

She smiles, but her eyes are watery and bright, and it nearly brings tears to my own. "Edward? Why don't I give you and Bella a few moments? I'll go wait in the hall for your friends."

Edward bites his lip, but he nods slowly, still not opening his eyes. His hand fists as soon as Esme lets it go, and even though he squeezes until his knuckles are white, he can't stop the tremors running down his arm.

 _Oh, baby._

I smile and nod at Esme, but as soon as she's clear, I grab that shaking hand and clutch it between my own, sitting as close to him as I can on the edge of his bed. He leans forward, and I pull him into my arms—he's shaking all over.

"Oh, Edward—"

"I'mokay," he blurts out. "I'mokayI'mokayI'mokay."

I hold him tighter. "You _are_ okay. And you're _going to be_ okay, I promise."

He nods against my shoulder.

"Did they give you anything for anxiety?"

He nods again. "As much as they could."

 _Christ._

My heart aches for him, and I want to ask him if he really wants to do this, but I know I can't. He _needs_ to do this, and if I give him the out, he just might take it, and then he'd have to go through this all over again some other day.

So I just hold him, rubbing his back in gentle circles while he shudders against me.

"Edward, you're the bravest person I know. You're my hero for so many reasons, but this is the most important one. I'm so proud of you for facing your fear head on. You're amazing."

He snorts, and I feel his arms settle around me. "You make me sound like Superman just for barely holding my shit together."

"So? I'm afraid of heights, so I don't wanna leap tall buildings with you, but maybe _this_ is your super power: Super Edward, the guy who holds his shit together."

Despite the hell I know he's in, Edward laughs, and my heart soars. _God, I've missed that sound._

Just then, Esme pokes her head in the door.

"Edward, your friends are here," she says softly.

Edward inhales sharply, and his arms and shoulders tense around me. Before I even realize what's happening, he's scrambled off the bed. He bolts for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, and soon the sounds of violent heaving can be heard through the door.

 _Fuck._

Esme enters the room and closes the door behind her, leaning on it as if she needs the support.

"He's been a mess all day despite all the drugs they're giving him. I've tried to distract him, but he's been lost in his head, and I know he's building this up to something so much worse than it is."

I nod because I know she's right. And I feel just as helpless as she does.

Just then, the bathroom door opens and an even paler Edward stumbles out, gazing at us wearily.

"I c-c-can't do this. I can't tell them, and they'll just stare at me …"

He sways a little, and Esme and I fly to either side of him, helping him back to his bed.

"What if someone else tells them, and then you can see them after?" Esme asks.

"I'll do it," I volunteer, smiling confidently at him. "I think they're more likely to ask me questions than your mom."

"Bella—"

"It gets the job done, Edward. And you'll still have to face them after. It doesn't matter who says the words, as long as they know the truth."

He nods, but he doesn't lift his gaze from his blanket. I've never seen him look so defeated.

"I'm not Super Edward," he mutters, and although my heart twists in my chest, I still manage to get the words out.

"Oh, yes. Yes, you are."

"I'll stay here with you while Bella talks to them," Esme says, rubbing her hand gently up and down Edward's arm as she takes a seat beside him.

"It'll be fine. I promise," I reassure him as I head for the door. "They're your friends, and they're gonna show you how much they care about you."

I turn and walk from the room, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out how I'm going to tell Jasper, Ben, Alice, and Angela the news that will change their perception of Edward forever.

 _Shit._ This wasn't the plan, but if I can bear the brunt of their reactions and spare Edward at least that much, I'll do it in a heartbeat.

They're clustered in the waiting room right down the hall. Angela and Ben are sitting together on one of the little couches, holding hands. The Gothlet is sitting on the other couch, but Jasper's pacing, his arms crossed, a worried look on his face. Jasper's been Edward's friend since elementary school—he's going to take this the hardest.

When I walk in, they all look at me expectantly, but Jasper is the first one to speak. "Something's wrong, isn't it? Why wouldn't Esme let us go right in to see Edward?"

I take a deep breath. "We'll all go see him in a minute, but I have to tell you some things first."

Jasper starts pacing again, and the other three look at me with fear in their eyes.

"He's okay—well, mostly, but he's had a secret for a while now, and he thinks it's time that you guys know." My eyes flick to Jasper, who stops mid-stride. "Jasper, go sit with Alice, please? You're making me even more nervous than I already am."

Jasper looks almost frantic with worry, but my eyes plead with him. With a huff, he gives in and plops down on the couch beside The Gothlet.

"What is it, Bella?" Ang says nervously.

I take another deep breath to steady myself, and then look at Jasper as I tell them. "Edward has epilepsy. He was diagnosed the summer before freshman year."

In my periphery, I see Ang and The Gothlet both cover their mouths with their hands, and Ben drop his gaze to the floor, but Jasper doesn't move.

"That's why he misses school so much," Ang says, dazed.

"Is that why he quit basketball?" Ben asks.

I nod.

"When did _you_ find out?" Jasper asks me through clenched teeth.

I close my eyes wearily. I knew Jasper wasn't going to take this well, for a lot of reasons.

"I found out before Edward and I started dating. He didn't tell me—I happened to be with him during the first seizure he ever had at school. He didn't want anyone to know about this, so I kept his secret for him. He still doesn't want anyone to know, but … he doesn't really have a choice now."

"What made him decide to tell us now?" The Gothlet asks, and as she does, she covers Jasper's hand with her own.

 _Now comes the hard part …_

"Because things have … changed. For the last three years, Edward has always known ahead of time when he's going to have a seizure. There are … warning signs, and he would always just stay home. But during the fight, he hit his head and got a concussion, and after that, he had a really long seizure. Since then, his seizures have been out of control," I say tearfully, unable to keep my composure. I close my eyes and bite into my lower lip, trying to keep myself from crying.

Angela looks at me astutely for a moment, then gets up and puts her arms around me, pulling me down on the couch beside her. "Bella, this is not your fault."

"Of course, it's not!" The Gothlet chimes in, reaching over and putting her hand on my knee.

I don't say anything. The guilt still lingers—an aching hole in my chest—maybe it always will despite everyone trying to convince me otherwise. Besides, this conversation is supposed to be about Edward, not me. As I try to put myself back together, my eyes fall on Jasper, who's still staring straight ahead with a frustrated look on his face.

"What do you mean 'out of control'?" Ben asks gravely.

I sniffle a bit, but the thought that Edward's counting on me to get through this helps me focus. "I mean, he used to have a seizure every two or three weeks, and he always knew about them ahead of time. Now, he's having them every day, he doesn't get a warning anymore, and they have to stop them with medication. That's why he's still in the hospital. The concussion threw everything out of balance somehow, and they don't know if everything will go back to the way it was or not.

"That's part of why he wants you guys to know," I continue. It's easier now that I've gotten beyond the part I feel responsible for. "He won't be able to come back to school until he stops having seizures so often, and they're stopping on their own again. And there are other things you need to know before you see him, too.

"He doesn't remember the fight at all, and he's not completely back to normal yet. He slurs some of his words when he talks, and he takes more time to think before he answers questions.

"Seizures can have a lot of triggers, but Edward's biggest one is stress." Now I look at Jasper. "We need to try to keep him calm, so if you're mad at him for not telling you about this, Jasper, please don't yell at him today."

Jasper glares at me, but his face crumples a bit as he looks down. "Why the _hell_ didn't he tell me?" he says angrily, getting up from the couch and striding across the room.

"I don't know why he didn't tell you, specifically. But he made the choice long ago not to tell anyone outside his family, and they stood by that choice. He just wants to be normal—like everybody else—and this makes him very different. He's really … nervous about you guys knowing—about how you'll react. That's why I'm telling you and not him. He didn't think he could handle the stress of telling you, and his mom and I didn't think so either. So please, _please_ go easy on him when you see him. You can't imagine how hard this is for him after all the time he's kept it secret."

Jasper purses his lips and blows out a frustrated breath as he looks at me. "I don't want to make things harder for him. I _am_ pissed, but … I'll keep it to myself for now."

"Thank you," I tell him, and I really mean it. "Do you guys want to go see him now?"

They all nod and stand up with me. I walk to the door but stop before going out into the hall. "I should also warn you he still looks pretty bad from the beating he took. I saw him the night it happened, so he actually looks a little better to me, but since you guys haven't seen him, it might be a bit of a shock."

Jasper and Ben nod, but the girls look at me wide-eyed. I hope they won't react, but honestly, it's hard for me not to react when I see him, and I've been coming here every day.

I walk in first, and Edward looks at me tentatively. His mom has moved over to the couch, but he glances at her as if he wishes she were still sitting beside him. I grin at him warmly and nod my head, trying to reassure him it'll be all right.

His face falls as the others file in behind me, and I know without looking what I'll see on their faces. I wince as I walk over to stand beside him, but I grip his hand and turn to face it with him anyway.

Angela and The Gothlet's eyes are wide as saucers, and each has a hand over their mouth. Ben's lips are pursed into a tight line, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched angrily. Jasper … Jasper's eyes are pure sadness and shock, and as I gaze at him, he looks away.

"I look p-p-pretty bad, don't I?" Edward asks uncomfortably. "I looked a few days ago, but I doubt it's g-g-gotten much better."

Angela recovers first, crossing the distance to his bed with a gentle smile on her face. "Edward, I'm so sorry this happened to you," she says, touching his arm.

He looks down. "It's okay. I'll heal up from the fight, and I've b-b-been having … s-s-seizures for years now, so I'm used to it."

"How are you feeling?" The Gothlet asks, coming forward to stand beside me.

"Tired. And I alm-m-most always have a headache. But I'm having fewer s-s-seizures and my sp-p-peech is much better."

The Gothlet's eyebrows rise, but instead of freaking out, Edward just takes it in stride.

"The first time I woke up after the big s-s-seizure, I couldn't talk at all. I knew what I wanted to s-s-say, I just couldn't figure out how to m-m-make the words."

"Damn," Ben says, shaking his head. "Was it scary?"

"Terrifying," Edward replies.

"Does it … hurt? When you have a seizure?" Ben asks, gazing at Edward, openly curious.

I flinch a bit as he asks the question because I know it will make Edward uncomfortable but also because I'd never asked it. I think I've been afraid to.

Edward looks down again at first, but then he forces himself to meet Ben's eyes. "No, I'm not aware of it at all—well, I know right b-b-beforehand and then after, but during the s-s-seizure, I kind of black out, and then when I wake up I'm p-p-pretty out of it and really sleepy."

Edward's eyes scan the room, taking in everyone's reaction, I'm guessing, but his gaze lingers on Jasper, who's still standing by the door.

"Jazz?" Edward asks, and I know everyone in the room can hear the questions he's not asking.

Jasper closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly, clearly trying to hold his temper, and Edward starts to shake a little bit. I start to walk toward Jasper to ask him to leave the room, but Edward catches my arm and holds it.

Suddenly, Jasper fixes Edward with a piercing look, the hurt plain on his face. "Why didn't you tell me? We've been friends our whole lives. I don't … understand," he finishes, looking away.

Edward closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Jazz, I'm s-s-sorry. I didn't want anyone to know who didn't absolutely have to. It was … easier to deal with when n-n-no one knew."

"But why?" Jasper presses. "I could have helped you. I could have … understood. I could have not taken the mickey out of you when you quit playing basketball!" he exclaims, raising his voice in anger.

Edward remains calm, but I can see the pain in his eyes. "You would have treated m-m-me differently. I didn't want that."

"I wouldn't have," Jasper retorts, a fierce look on his face.

"Yes, you would … you will. _Everyone_ does," Edward says vehemently. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have p-p-people watching you all the time, treating you like a fucking time bomb? Being careful what they do and s-s-say around you so they don't g-g-get you too upset? I've had to p-p-put up with that from my family for two and a half years n-n-now and from every teacher at school."

Everyone looks at him incredulously.

"Yeah, all the teachers know," he affirms. "They have to because if s-s-something happened at school, I'd be dependent on them to help me. I'm _always_ dependent on s-s-someone, and it sucks. Now imagine if everyone at school knew about this. What do you think that would b-b-be like?"

Jasper looks down, but he's not ready to give up yet. "I'm not everyone."

"No, you're not, but after w-w-watching how everything changed after I was diagnosed, I decided I didn't w-w-want anyone else to know. At school, I c-c-could escape from it—I could feel _n-n-normal_ , but at home, I had to deal with it. It was just easier for me this way."

"What will you do now? Bella said something changed and you don't know ahead of time when you're going to have a seizure anymore," Ang asks. _Fuck. Why does she have to be so damn perceptive?_

Edward's jaw flexes, and he closes his eyes as he takes slow, even breaths. He takes his time to answer, but I'm so proud of him when he does.

"Well, I'm just g-g-going to have to take my chances now. Go back to s-s-school and hope for the best."

"How can we help?" Jasper asks, finally moving toward Edward.

If it weren't such a serious moment, the look on Edward's face would be comical. "You want to help?"

"Of course, we do!" The Gothlet exclaims, taking Jasper's hand. "At least one of us is in class with you even when Bella isn't; we could help you if you need to leave the room. Or, if something happens and people are staring at you, I'll stab them with Ivan!"

The Gothlet's eyes have an eerie glow, and I'm so mesmerized by them I startle when I hear laughter— _Edward's_ laughter.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, Alice, but thanks for offering to risk p-p-prison time for me."

Alice just grins sweetly, dropping her chin to her chest and looking through her eyelashes as she winks at him. _God, that girl is so damn scary!_

"Who the fuck is Ivan?" I hear Ben whisper to Angela, and I can't contain my snort. I'll have to fill them both in on Alice's pet switchblade later.

"But seriously, Edward. We'd really like to help," Angela says, putting her hand on his forearm.

Edward closes his eyes, but instead of freaking out, he takes a deep breath and covers Ang's hand with his own.

"Okay."

I'm so proud of him in this moment I think I might burst with it.

After that, the tension seems to dissolve and everyone starts chatting as if we're not in a hospital room. Edward even manages to smile a few times when The Gothlet teases him about all those "vacation days" he's taken.

Suddenly, I hear Edward suck in a ragged breath, and his arm tenses under my hand. His eyes are closed—and he begins trembling. The room goes silent, but I can hear an alarm sounding down the hallway. Everyone's eyes are drawn to Edward.

"Seizure?" I whisper softly to him, and he nods his head jerkily.

"Esme?" I say a little louder, and I lift my hand from Edward's arm to step back.

"S-s-stay," he stutters out, reaching a shaking hand out for me blindly.

"I'm right here. I'll stay," I tell him, moving back to the side of the bed and taking his hand in mine.

Esme's hand squeezes my shoulder. "Are you okay to stay with him while I see everyone out? The nurse will be here in just a minute."

I nod, my eyes widening a little. I look over at my friends and see the fear and pity on their faces, and that's enough to snap me out of it. "We'll be fine," I tell Esme confidently.

"Guys, I'll talk to you tomorrow," I say to Ang, Ben, The Gothlet, and Jasper as Esme shepherds them out, and then I turn my attention back to Edward. His eyes are still closed—I guess that's so our friends wouldn't see the terror there, as I did that day in the classroom. That or it's his way of wishing them away since I'm sure he's not ready for them to see this. He lays his head back against the mattress, and I rub his hand gently between mine, letting him know I'm still with him.

A nurse bustles into the room about ten seconds later and lowers Edward's bed so he's lying flat. Then Edward goes rigid for a few seconds and starts to convulse. "Stand back," the nurse says gently, but I realize as I bump the wall that I was already backing away. I shake myself and step closer again, forcing myself to watch. It's heartbreaking to see Edward's body so out of his control, but since his seizures no longer come with a warning, I need to know how to handle this.

I want to ask the nurse questions, but I hold my breath for most of the almost five minutes that Edward shakes, and when he begins gasping for breath, so do I. The nurse moves next to him and gently rolls him onto his side, tucking one hand under his cheek and lifting his chin, and bending one of his legs over the other so his weight keeps him on his side.

"Is—is that what you're supposed to do for him?" I whisper, and she looks over at me kindly.

"Yes, honey. Let him be during the seizure unless you need to stop his head from hitting something. Then after, position him like this to recover and make sure he's breathing. This is the best way to keep his airway open."

I nod slowly.

"You can touch him now. He'll probably wake up in a few minutes, but he'll be a bit confused. Just reassure him, and buzz me if you need anything," she says as she turns to leave the room.

I walk slowly over to him and run my hand over his copper-brown hair. He looks so … peaceful after all the violence I just witnessed. It's hard to reconcile that something so scary-looking can happen to him, and then he can lay here like a little boy, curled up in sleep. I run my hand over his hair again. This time his eyes open, and I stroke his forehead softly. His eyes meet mine but with no recognition, so I continue stroking and whisper to him that everything's okay and he's safe. After a moment, he closes his eyes again, but I continue, and I feel him angle his head into my hand.

We stay like that for a few moments, and the next time he opens his eyes, I can tell he recognizes me because a lazy smile spreads across his face. "Hey there," I say softly.

"Hey," he whispers, blinking slowly.

I can't help but smile at him. I missed him so much over the last few weeks, and I'm so happy to have him back. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine … I think …" he answers, his eyes drooping closed. Suddenly, they pop open again. "I'm s-s-sorry, Bella. What were we talking about? I'm so tired …"

"Just rest, Edward. We weren't talking about anything just now. You had a seizure a few minutes ago—that's why you're tired."

"I did?" he asks innocently, his green eyes questioning.

"Yes, you did. But everything's fine now, and I'll stay with you. Why don't you try to sleep for a bit?"

"Okay," he mumbles, as his eyes again drift shut. I breathe a sigh of relief, not realizing until then that I've been tense, waiting for Edward to act normally.

"You did it, Super Edward," I whisper, leaning down to kiss his cheek, and he smiles in his sleep as if he heard me.

A motion in the corner of the room catches my eye, and I jump a little as Esme walks over to me. I have no idea how long she's been there.

"You did wonderfully, Bella," she says, putting her hand on my shoulder. "That's exactly how you need to talk to him—calm and reassuring. He'll likely sleep for a few hours at least—maybe even until the morning.

"I'm glad he asked you to stay," she continues. "It says a lot about how comfortable he is with you—he's never let anyone other than me, Carlisle, or Emmett take care of him through a seizure. And if things are going to be … different … now," her voice shakes as she says the words, "he may need you to help him alone sometime."

"Does it get easier?" I ask her, feeling worn out from the effort of just keeping it together through the seizure and being there for him after through his confusion.

"You get used to it," she replies. "But I wouldn't call it easy. It's never easy watching someone you love deal with an illness."

But as I gaze at Edward sleeping beside me, I realize that it doesn't matter—easy or hard, I'm in this forever with him or for as long as he'll have me.

"That seizure stopped on its own," Esme murmurs thoughtfully, and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. Edward's one step closer to going home.

* * *

A/N: Super Edward indeed. I'm so proud of him! The next chapter will likely be delayed a week—I leave for the beach tomorrow and I'm not finished with it yet. I'll get it posted as soon as I can, though!


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